


That's my Spot

by IShipIt32



Series: Over a cup of Coffee [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Minor Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-03-31 21:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 59,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13983240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipIt32/pseuds/IShipIt32
Summary: Every day, Jaime Lannister went to the same coffee shop, ordered the same drink and sat on the same table. It was part of his routine, the one thing that kept him sane day after day... So who the hell was that woman who dared sit on his spot?





	1. The Table Thief

**Author's Note:**

> *Waves shyly*  
> I wrote a thing, I really hope you like it.

Standing frozen in the middle of the street, Jaime Lannister felt for the first time in the thirty-two years of his life that he was on the outside looking in. Physically shaking his head, he started moving again, the bell rang when he opened the door and was kindly greeted by the same young man who used to work the Monday afternoon shift.

“Mr. Lannister, your usual?”, the young man asked with a smile.

“Please,” he said half distracted, his eyes glued to the same spot he had been staring for the last three minutes.

* * *

Like every male firstborn of the family, Jaime Lannister had no choice but to study Economics, he was actually thankful for it because had he been born after Tyrion, then he would have had to go into law and that would have been a grand pain in the neck. With a major in Economics, a minor in Art, and the threat to lose every single penny of his inheritance, Jaime Lannister joined the corporate world at the tender age of twenty-one. He knew he shouldn’t complain, he had a proper job before graduation, his own office, and name on a glass door. But a part of him couldn’t help but feel jealous when all his classmates took a few months off to travel or celebrated getting their dream jobs. 

He had never dreamed of managing Lannister Enterprises, becoming a merger mogul or crunching numbers all day analyzing financial risks for possible purchases or sales or new investments. He had dreamed of traveling to the Free Cities, of working as a curator in the most important museums in the world, of getting his hands on ancient pieces of art that had been in the world before him and would, hopefully, remain in the world after him. He wanted to contribute to the history of the world even if it was by preserving its story. No, economics was not something little Jaime Lannister had dreamt of when sitting on his mother’s lap and listening to her talk about the paintings in their Casterly Rock estate and the pictures she took from their many travels.

Lannister Enterprises had started over a hundred years ago when his great-grandfather, Damon Lannister, started a little banking venture in the Westernlands. The company was inherited by Tytos Lannister, a man too gentle for his own good who almost managed to bankrupt the family with his lax policies and tender heart. If it weren’t for Jaime’s father, Tywin Lannister, the Lannister name would not be worth a penny. It was rumored that Tywin all but fired his own father when he started working in the company, but those were just rumors. Tywin Lannister took over at a young age, but that ambition and recklessness of youth paid off. Their little banking venture grew, and with the money earned, Tywin started buying companies, building them up before selling them, forty years later, everything was history. There were two things that Tywin Lannister cared about: results and results. He didn’t care how you did things as long as you got them done, he didn’t care if you were happy, sad, excited or bored, if he expected something from you, then you better deliver. And what Tywin expected from his firstborn son was to one day inherit the family company and do what was expected of him. 

Working in a corporate environment made Jaime’s life much predictable. He woke up every day at six in the morning, had a protein shake for breakfast, and rode the elevator to the 21st floor of his apartment building where he would use the gym until 8 am. He liked working out first thing in the morning for two reasons, first, because there were fewer people than in the afternoons and second because it was the only way in which he could wake up and clear his mind for the day. Around 8 am when the rest of the people from the building started filling in; he’d go down to his 16th-floor apartment, shower, pick one of his many tailored suits and drive to Red Keep district, where the Lannister Enterprises central office stood. He would make one stop on the way to pick up a protein-packed breakfast and the first cup of coffee of the day.

For the last ten years, Monday through Friday, Jaime Lannister arrived at the Lannister building at precisely 9 am. He would greet the doorman, ignore the secretaries and the rest of staff and ride the elevator in silence to his office, where he’d work away until lunchtime. More often than not he’d have lunch with a possible client, a potential investor, his brother or if he was out of luck, his father. After lunch, he would go back to the office and alienate anyone who wanted to talk to him, get a recommendation, ask for a favor or try to bring someone into the company. He would work hard until 7 or 8, the extra hours allowing for the heavy traffic to die down and, in reality, he got most of his work done once his secretary was gone and didn’t pass any calls to him. As much as his morning workouts helped him clear his mind for the day, it was after five that Jaime did his best thinking.

He had come across his favorite Roaring Coffee store almost by accident. He had gone to visit a possible partner, and the meeting had been an utter waste of time, he had been in such a bad mood that he didn’t call the driver to pick him up, deciding to better walk back to work to clear his mind and then, there it was. Almost a hidden treasure in the middle of an incredibly quiet street not ten even minutes away from the Lannister building. He stepped inside with the idea of grabbing a quick coffee to go but stayed after realizing that the place was quiet, unlike other Roaring Coffee locations, he liked the music and the fact that the barista treated him with a kind smile and even dared to recommend a flavored coffee. He enjoyed that as he was waiting for his order, said barista said farewell to a customer and called him by name, that cool vibe he got from the moment he stepped in until he had to leave. And so, for the last two years he head blocked his afternoons from 3:30 until 5 pm, picked up his jacket, wallet and messenger bag and walked for eight minutes to buy his usually third cup of coffee of the day. 

Yes, every weekday and some weekends for the last two years Jaime Lannister had walked to his favorite coffee place at the same time. He flirted Mya or Randa who usually worked the afternoon shift, ordered the exact same drink, sat at the exact same table, stayed for the same exact amount of time and left feeling reenergized and in a better mood. Every single damned day until that day, that Monday when he saw a… woman? He could swear that was a woman with pale skin and pale blond hair sitting in this spot. She had a coffee mug, a half-forgotten pastry and was typing away in a sleek looking laptop, one that looked almost like the one he had.

“Hey, Pod,” Jaime said as he forced himself to stop staring at the blonde woman, “I’ll take that to go.”

The look on young Podrick’s face was of utter confusion, the lad had been the first barista to learn his name all those years ago, and while they weren’t exactly friends, Jaime liked to think they had a relationship beyond the barista/customer thing that was going on. Quickly snapping out of it, Pod transferred the shot of espresso he had just pulled into a to go cup and finished making Jaime’s drink. Jaime took his drink from the bar and threw one last glance over his shoulder at the woman sitting on his table, wishing to find her putting away her things but was finally let down, the woman seemed to be in a whole different dimension. 

“Thanks, Pod, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jaime said a little defeated as he walked to the door, in the background he heard a faded farewell as he crossed the door and walked back to the office.

Tuesday was hell from the get-go. He had placed his phone on the treadmill plate for a quick 3 miles run to close his workout; everything was going fine up until an incoming text message made the phone buzz and slip out of the holder. The damned thing fell to the band, and in an attempt to not step on it, Jaime ended up tripping and landing hard on his left arm. The fall knocked the air out of him, when he got up the pain in his arm was piercing, and upon checking the phone, he found out it was just a promo from some department store. As if a physical injury wasn’t enough, some jerk rear-ended him on a red light, it wasn’t a big hit, it was barely a scratch but Jaime was already in a bad mood, and he made sure to make the idiot pay for what he did. It was well past 10 in the morning when he stepped into his office only to find a reminder that he had a 10:30 with accounting for which he had prepared squat. So his morning went from bad to worse to worst, and the icing on the cake was, of course, lunch with not only his father but his sister as well.

Jaime’s relationship with Cersei had once been golden, just like the two of them. Being twins, they were very close during their childhood, going up and down, exploring Casterly Rock, discovering their personalities, likes and dislikes. Cersei had always been the most ambitious out of the two of them, the three of them once Tyrion arrived, and it had been that ambition what strained and finally damaged their relationship beyond repair.

When they turned sixteen, Tywin gifted each of them a family heirloom, Cersei got a beautiful sapphire pendant that had belonged to their mother and Jaime got an old fountain pen. The look of joy in Cersei face when she saw him getting an old pen hurt his feelings, he knew his sister was vain but how could she be that selfish, that mocking smile didn’t last long, though. Emotionless as ever, Tywin had them sit down and explained to Cersei the story behind a pendant, how it had been the first gift he had ever given to their mother, Cersei smiled her fake smiles and asked how much it was worth, Tywin said a stupid amount of golden dragons. Then he turned to look at Jaime and told that the fountain pen was the one with which Damon Lannister signed the legal documents when he started the family business. The pen had been passed down to Tytos and then to him, and now, as heir to the company, Tywin was giving it to his firstborn son. Cersei had been furious; she had thrown a tantrum saying that she wanted to run the company, that she had better grades, was more gracious and that Jaime was the stupidest Lannister in the family. On the night of his sixteenth name day, Jaime lost a sister, gained the weight of the world on his shoulders and received an old pen in exchange.

Lunch was tense as usual, Cersei wouldn’t be CEO one day, but she still sat at the board, had a fair amount of shares, and she loved displaying her superiority in the hopes of changing their father’s mind about management. When lunch was over, Jaime could feel a migraine coming and instantly knew that if there was a day in which he needed his little sanctuary, it was that very Tuesday. He accepted his father offer for a ride back to the office and pretended to get a phone call when they reached the building, uninterested, Tywin walked ahead, once he was out of sight, Jaime put the phone away and started walking. 

He didn’t look through the window; he didn’t even look both ways before crossing the street because the gods were having a field day with him and a few raindrops had started to fall. Entering the coffee shop, Jaime let a sigh out as the aroma of roasting coffee beans filled his lungs; the soft music eased his nerves, and the pretty smile on Randa’s face made him feel a little better. He liked Randa; she was always checking him out when he was a good twelve years older than her.

“Did you miss me while I was on vacation?”, Randa asked as she pulled a shot of espresso from the machine.

“How could I not? You know you’re the only person I trust to make me try new coffee beans. What’s in for me today?”

“A strong and aged blend from Essos, just like you Mr. Lannister,” Randa said as she presented him with a cup of steaming hot coffee.

“Are you calling me old, dear?”, Jaime asked as he extended his company credit card.

“Oh no, Mr. Lannister,” she said with fake concern, “I’m calling you strong and exotic.”

Jaime Lannister had learned that there was a point during flirting in which the best exit technic was just to smile and remain silent, and that was what he did. Instead, he grabbed the ceramic cup and took a sip as he turned around. In a split of a second, the good mood that Randa had stirred up in him was gone. There she was again, the same wench who had dared to steal his table the day before. Again she was on her computer, looking deep in concentration. She wasn’t typing this time; she was just there staring at her screen, a forgotten sandwich on her plate.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Lannister? I can give you another coffee if you didn’t like that blend” Randa offered, this time her concern was real.

“Oh, no, no, the blend is great. I just… I’ll find somewhere to sit”, Jaime said as he scanned the room and found his back up table, the one he hadn’t used since the third or fourth time he visited the café before he discovered his favorite spot.

He stayed for about an hour, drinking his coffee and stealing glances from behind a magazine. Thirty minutes into his stakeout, the blonde woman stood up, and his heart leaped thinking that she’d gather her things and get the hell out. Instead, she picked up the phone, answered a call and asked Randa if she could reheat her sandwich. He felt betrayed when Randa smiled at the giant woman and agreed. As the woman waited for her snack, Jaime took the chance to pay closer attention to her. She was tall, incredibly tall even in flats, and she didn’t look like she worked in any corporate office nearby dressed in slacks and a hideous white shirt. Her stride was purposeful, and although he couldn't hear her voice, he was sure it must have sounded as confident as the way she walked. Bored and aware that she wasn’t going anywhere soon, Jaime picked up his jacket and walked to the door, he thought the woman stole a glance at him as he walked out but Jaime couldn’t blame her, he knew he was good looking. 

On Wednesday afternoon she didn’t have her laptop opened, she read from some printed pages, a red pen in hand and glasses perched on her nose. Standing by the bar, he took a moment to look at the woman’s face, she had freckles, a lot of freckles, her nose was crooked, and her lips were thin. She frowned as she read and Jaime wondered if maybe she was a teacher, she looked like one, with her boring dress pants and another solid color shirt. Being honest, he didn’t care if she was a teacher or not, he didn’t care if she worked for the fucking space program, he just wanted his table back. He could certainly smoke her out, right? He was a stubborn man, everybody said so, he was well known for not giving up, and although their ancient family crest showed a lion, some people thought of him as a snake, twisting around his prey and squeezing until it died. With a smirk on his face, Jaime took his cup and sat on the empty table behind the blonde giantess. He started humming, that surely drove him nuts so it must at least bother someone who was clearly trying to concentrate on her reading. He tapped his fingers loudly against the table and completely offbeat. He played videos on his phone without any earphones and five minutes into his disturbing charade, he felt a death glare, heard a throat being cleared. A big triumphant smile took over and then fell as the woman reached into her bag and pulled a pair of noise-canceling earphones. Cursing under his breath, Jaime drank his coffee in one long gulp and left. 

If Tuesday was hell, Thursday was heaven. His arm felt good as new; his insurance company assured him that the poor bastard who had scratched his beautiful car would have to cover the overpriced fee of his favorite garage and his father called to announce he would need to cancel a meeting because he needed to fly somewhere for an emergency. The skies were blue and clear, and there was no chance of Tywin Lannister showing up in his office until next Tuesday. 

With a bounce in his step, Jaime decided to indulge himself and went for a beer and a burger to a nearby little diner in the area. After a double cheeseburger, a large order of fries and a beer, Jaime went back to the office, phoned a few clients and decided to call it a day. For a minute he considered going straight home but he was having such a good day that he was sure he’d find his table empty, it was Thursday after all, and Thursdays were usually slow days at Roaring Coffee. The insurance company had picked up his car, but he didn’t mind walking, he’d take the subway back home before rush hour, and everything would be okay; throwing his bag across his shoulder, Jaime started walking.

 _You have got to be kidding me_ , he thought when he stepped into the coffee shop and saw the blonde giant pick up her coffee and walk straight to his table, _You have got to be fucking kidding me._

“Hey mister L” Mya’s soft voice greeted him from behind the bar, her eyes following the blonde woman as well, “Thought day?”

“It was actually going fine until two minutes ago,” Jaime answered bitterly, had he left the office five minutes earlier he would have beat the woman to his spot, “Can’t you put a reserved sign or something?”

“You know we can’t do that mister Lannister,” Mya replied trying to hide a smile.

That time he didn’t even try to disturb the woman, he paid for his coffee and walked straight out.

 _So much for a nice Thursday afternoon_ , he thought.

His Friday 3 o’clock was running long; he hated when meetings ran long. Jaime Lannister was a busy man, and for that reason he loved punctuality, he believed that if you scheduled a two-hour meeting, the meeting should last exactly 120 minutes, it was a matter of respect. He had agreed to meet some intern at 3 and had clearly said that he could give the lad thirty minutes, it was now 3:45 and the man was not shutting up. Jaime had tried to be polite, gave clear signs that the boy should wrap up the meeting, he even checked his watch very visibly but to no result. Finally, at 4 pm, Jaime stood up and wrapped up the meeting. Leaving a dumbstruck intern behind, he left the room in desperate need for a coffee. 

He could see her from half a block away; it would have been hard not to with that hideous pink blouse breaking the pristine decoration of the coffee shop. Furious, Jaime entered the store and saw Pod working behind the bar.

“Podrick!”, Jaime called as he placed both hands on the counter, “Who the hell is that woman!” he added rudely pointing at the blonde. 

He didn’t give the poor lad time to answer before anything could be said, Jaime was striding across the floor and placing a big hand on the back of one of the empty chairs. Big blue eyes, the bluest eyes he had ever seen in his life, met his with a slight hint of fear and much disbelief.

“Can I help you?”, Her voice was exactly what he had imagined it to be, strong and confident, her statement short and to the point. He might have liked her if she was not a spot thieve. 

“Yes! Yes you can. What the hell do you think you are doing, sitting here at this table every day.”

“Writing”, she replied plainly, if there had been a hint of fear in her eyes, it did not show in her voice.

“So you’re a writer then? Of course you are, this damn city is full of writers”, he said throwing his arms in the air, a bit dramatic even for him but he was reeled up, and he would not stop, “What do you write then? Blogs? Reviews? Insightful little pieces for indie newspapers?”

“The Oathkeeper series.”

The woman’s voice was cold, cold as her blue eyes, and Jaime’s mouth dropped. The Oathkeeper series… he liked the Oathkeeper series, he had every single book in hardcover and first edition but those books were written by a man, there was no way this woman was the author of those books unless… unless she wrote under a penname. Jaime closed his mouth and lifted his chin, a golden B. Tarth printed on a little black notebook caught his eye: B. Tarth… B. Tarth, why did that sound familiar? Adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, Jaime Lannister turned around and left the coffee shop. He didn’t run home, but there was a certain determination in his step that made him feel restless as he rode the stupid subway. When he finally entered his apartment, he threw the bag on the floor and dashed into the bedroom. The book was there, on his nightstand, picking it up slowly, he read the name on its spine and cursed.

* * *

Every other week Jaime Lannister forgot all about tailored suits and designer clothes, put on a t-shirt and jeans and met his brother Tyrion at The Hound’s Bar over at Flea Bottom. Drinking with his little brother should have been considered an extreme sport, for someone as short as Tyrion, that damned half man could drink a lot. It had taken Jaime many years of drunk nights and bursting hangover mornings to finally come to terms with the fact that just as he would never outsmart his baby brother, he’d never outdrink him either. They started that little tradition after Jaime's first day at work, Tyrion with a magnificent fake ID, had made it his mission to save his older brother’s soul through the healing power of alcohol. Through the years they had gotten used to it, neither of them would admit it, but the brothers looked forward to their meetings in that dark bar on the wrong side of town.

“I’ll take a double Manhattan,” Jaime called over the bar as he scanned the room for his little brother.

“Rough day, Lannister?” The raspy voice of Sandor Clegane asked from behind the bar. They had known each other since high school, and although they weren’t friends, Jaime did think of Sandor Clegane as something more than just an acquaintance, and how could he not, when the Hound had carried his drunken ass to the apartment upstairs more than once for him to sleep his hungover.

“You have no idea,” Jaime replied as he took his drink, “Have you seen my functional alcoholic brother?" 

“My best customer is in the corner, make sure to order food this time, I don’t feel like hauling the Lannister brothers up the stairs tonight.”

Tipping his glass towards Clegane, Jaime walked to where his brother sat nursing a drink and reading a book, that brother of his would always find himself buried in a book or between a woman’s legs. Sitting down, Jaime waited for Tyrion to finish the paragraph or chapter or whatever had his attention at the moment, he had learned long ago that whatever he said while Tyrion read was a waste of breath. Three minutes later, Tyrion closed his book, finished his drink and signaled the waitress for a refill before addressing him.

“Big brother,” Tyrion greeted as he picked up the menu and pretended to scan its contents. Clegane hadn’t changed the menu since the opening of the place; he hadn’t printed new ones either by the feel of them, and they did always end up getting the same thing when they got food. “Should we try something new?”

“Should you become a silent brother?”, Jaime asked with a smile, “We’ll take a large order of everything nachos,” he told the young thing that left a drink before his brother.

Despite being younger, Tyrion had an old soul, that and his passion for books and knowledge made him the person that Jaime went to for advice, even if he would most times end up not listening to a single word and doing whatever the hell he wanted. While Cersei had always disliked Tyrion, and quite openly, Jaime had a soft spot for his baby brother, and when Cersei turned her back on him, it was only natural for the two brothers to grow closer, something that annoyed Cersei royally. Still, it wasn’t until Jaime started university that they bonded over their frustration of never meeting Tywing Lannister’s expectations.

“Hey, Tyrion,” Jaime said as he nursed a second drink and his brother pushed around some nachos, “did you know B. Tarth is a woman?”

Many years ago, Tyrion had recommended the books to him. His brother knew how he hated reading, how he could never find something that got his attention long enough for him to actually enjoy sitting down and traveling to a new world in his imagination. Now, six years later, the brothers often discussed the Oathkeeper series while drinking and once or twice they had waited in line for the newest releases of the series instead of ordering them online.

“Of course I did.”

“How? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to find an excuse not to read the books, and you can be quite an arrogant dick. Anyway, you know how sometimes I help out Sansa Stark review legal documents just to piss off Tywin? Well, they represent Brienne Tarth.” Tyrion said, a second later, something clicked in the little man’s mind “Wait, why? Jaime, what did you do!”

With an arrogant smirk, Jaime started telling Tyrion how on Monday morning a woman had the nerve to sit in his favorite table at the little coffee shop he loved so much; he carried on to tell him about finding her there on Tuesday and trying to disturb her enough to leave on Wednesday. He told him how on Thursday he had tried to reserve the table and how earlier that day he had just had enough and approached the woman, ready to give her a piece of his mind, until she coldly replied she was a writer and then he went and screwed everything up.

“Let me see if I got this right,” Tyrion said when Jaime finished talking, “You made an ass out of yourself in front of the author of one of your favorite book series because she happens to like the same table you do?" 

“When you put it like that it makes me sound awfully petty, it’s not just a table, bro.” 

“It is just a table, bro,” Tyrion said suddenly serious, “Stay away from her Jaime, just trust me on this one.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I'm writing so much Modern AU lately, probably because it's easier to write? Anyway, please let me know what you think of it. Thanks!


	2. The Writer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, up close you’re not so impressive,” she said not wanting to let him have the last word. Jaime Lannister chuckled and walked away, again.

Brienne could only think of three days in which she had been truly happy. The day she finished high school and therefore would never have to set foot on that stupid building again. The day her father got decorated by the navy and he beamed with pride as he received his medal. And the day she signed her first deal with Stark Publishing. Every other day of her twenty-four years on earth had was filled with misery or sadness, sometimes both.

All her life, she had been too this or too that: too tall, too lanky, too pale, too freckled, too clumsy, too shy, it had been that inability to fit in that had pushed her right into her two passions. She loved reading because it took her to a whole different world, it showed her a universe in which being different was an advantage instead of a liability, where the hero could be lonely, could be scared, could be beautiful or ugly. And she loved boxing because it was the perfect outlet for all her frustrations, inside the ring, she could punch the lights of whomever she cared, and her opponent could take the shape of whomever she liked. Her second passion ended up opening the path for her to pursue her first passion, a scout had seen her boxing in high school and offered her a spot in the University of Tarth team, where she decided to study English and Communications.

During her freshman year of college she started drafting what would later become the first book in the Oathkeeper series, but in the end, it was thanks to professor Catelyn Stark and her seminar on the importance of women in modern literature that Brienne decided to take a leap of faith and actually pursue her ideas. For years Brienne followed the work of Catelyn Stark, buying her books, listening to her dissertations online and even traveling to hear her lectures at Storm’s End, and in the end, all her fangirling paid off. During her senior year, Brienne applied for an internship at Stark Publishing, her first interview was online with some men from Human Resources, out of the hundreds of applicants, she continued to a second interview which was held by no other than Catelyn Stark. The elder woman quickly recognized Brienne, for once, her homely face an advantage, and after a half an hour conversation, she got the job. 

The summer after her senior year, Brienne packed her bags and became Catelyn Stark’s assistant. She learned so much during those six months, was exposed to the literary world, she got first-hand knowledge in every aspect of the industry, she worked with reps and authors, editors, publishers, test readers, everything. Then her dad got injured and she had to go back home, but she had once or twice mentioned to Catelyn how her first love had always been writing, and the northern woman told her that if she ever felt like she had something to say, she should send her a sample.

Back home, as she helped her father recover from his injuries and accept the fact that his military days were over, Brienne came across an old hard copy of the first chapters she had draft back in her freshman year. It was the story of an army captain gone rogue as she discovered that she needed to serve a purpose bigger than herself and her reluctant companion, an unpredictable special ops agent on the path to redemption after disobeying direct orders from his commander. Using her homeland of Tarth as an inspiration, Brienne created the Isle of Men, an island known for its blue oceans and usually calm people, that was until her characters found one another and all hell broke loose. In one afternoon, Brienne drafted the entire story, and in a week she had finished the opening chapter, edited it and sent it to Catelyn Stark. Not three days later, Sansa Stark, who was just stepping into the family business, called her to discuss her book.

Six years later, Brienne had five published books for the Oathkeeper series, a sixth one to be released and she was already working on the seventh and final installment of the adventures of her dear captain and her favorite special ops agent.

She had been lucky enough to travel to the places she used as inspiration for her books. Having the first book on Tarth made it so easy to write that decided to embrace the expression of writing what she knew. The second book happened in a country that very much resembled the North, with cold winters, a big wall and the threat of wolves and wights. The third book took Cap to a beach location for which she moved to Dorne for a month so she could outline the story. In the fourth book, they went to the mountains of the Vale; there was a lot of action in that book as a consequence of being inspired on a ski vacation with a former flame. The fifth book took place in the Iron Islands, and it had been a pain to write because halfway through it she had her heart broken at the news of Catelyn Stark passing away. The sixth book was the most adventurous one, taking the readers on a trip around the Reach. Her current story would happen in the Crownlands, most specifically in King’s Landing.

With the location of her new book and the whole press tours that she’d be having to partake, Brienne figured that moving for a few months to King’s Landing would be the smart thing to do. When she stepped out of Crownlands International Airport, Brienne couldn’t help but wonder what was it about that city that made it so attractive to people. King's Landing was hot and humid, had a weird smell in the air and was overcrowded. Still, she was no quitter, she hadn’t gotten as far in her career, hells, as far in life, by quitting in the face of adversity. So if she had to bare the putrid smell and humid heat and the ugly looks she was getting to give her book a more realistic vibe, she’d do it.

Her apartment in Muddy Way was small, something that a woman her height didn’t quite appreciate, it was also located in one of those parts of town where you needed to know which streets to take and sometimes when it was late, she was sure there was some shady business going on. However, in spite of the shadiness, the sometimes overtaking smell of fish, the dark streets, weird neighbors and so many other things, that little apartment had precisely four things going for her. It was cheap, it was available, it was near a subway station, and it allowed her to see the two buildings that would have astounding importance in her book.

Brienne had grown up under the tutelage of Septa Roelle, a woman with a mustache who tried to convince her that her unfortunate looks were a gift from the gods because since she wasn’t pretty, boys wouldn’t try to entice her to commit sinful acts. Brienne had hated the woman all her life; she was the reason for attending a school of the Seven, an all-girl school with mean hearts and cute smiles, if she were petty, Brienne would say that her inability to establish healthy relationships with men was due to that woman. Anyway, Septa Roelle was the first one to tell her to forget all dreams of being a writer and settle for getting an average Joe and getting married. As a thank you for her advice, Brienne had planned to blow up a sept in her book, it was, of course, essential to the plot, and what sept would be more blow up worthy than the Great Sept of Baelor. From her bedroom window, she could see the sept, tall and sturdy, and inspiration would just flow with ideas of how Cap and Special Agent Jacobs could escape yet another encounter with death. The second location she liked to watch, this time from her kitchen window, was the old Red Keep, she would surely have those two characters at least circling the place, there was just something imposing about it, and Brienne had an absolute love for big, imposing figures. 

Her first week at King’s Landing was her very definition of hell; it was full of meetings and dull conversations. Sometimes she wanted to give it all up, she was a writer, yes, she was in the entertainment industry, but she created worlds and stories. She did not want to do press conferences, daytime television appearances or hot radio interviews; she had gone six years without doing them, why should she start now? But Sansa was urging her to reconsider, to maybe do an interview or two, allow phones and a photographer in her signings, maybe get some social media platforms. Septa Roelle had done her damage, so had Ben Bushy, Hyle Hunt, Edmund Ambrose and girls like Margery Tyrell and her posey. They were all the reason why she avoided photoshoots, why she never allowed for her picture in dust jackets, why her only rule for book readings and signings was that there were to be no pictures. It had all worked pretty well, in the beginning at least, the secrecy of a new author taking the charts by surprise, but lately, it wasn’t working anymore. Brienne had promised Sansa to consider it, to really think about it, and then said she needed to work, that she was in King’s Landing for research and that she wouldn’t be getting anything done if all she did was sit in meetings. Finally, on her second week in King’s Landing, Brienne was free to take in the sights and get ready to write.

On Monday Brienne decided to start exploring the city, and took the subway and visited the Dragonpit. The structure reminded her of the fantastic locations she had imagined while reading many books, the Colosseum some authors had called it, a place where men called gladiators would fight to the death. It was amazing how an old structure in ruins could spark a fire in the imagination of someone, and they would go on to create a whole new world so different and yet so similar to their own. Amazed and inspired, Brienne lost track of time in the Dragonpit, before she knew it, it was past lunchtime, and she went back home. Her neighbors must have had kids because she could hear children talking and screaming and complaining, immediately, she packed her laptop and left to Fishmonger’s Square, she had seen a little restaurant there where she thought she could work. Unfortunately for her, the place was packed when she walked past, thinking that she was sure to find another spot, Brienne continued walking, and then, just when she was about to give up, she found it. A small coffee shop that seemed almost deserted in the middle of the street: Roaring Coffee, the sign said, well, she had a roaring stomach, so she decided to go in.

The air conditioning was a welcomed feeling, so welcomed that she actually smiled. The cement floors, the exposed pipes, it looked exactly like every other hip café Sansa had taken her to, and yet, it felt completely different. She was sure she must have seen a few of those franchise stores around town, she might have even visited one before, but this place felt different, the music had a different vibe. For one, the place wasn’t packed with students or corporate people, and the boy behind the counter looked genuinely glad to be there. Brienne stepped up to the bar and noticed the boy was reading a thick book, for school maybe? She didn’t know, but the second she was seen, the boy threw a piece of paper in and closed the book.

“Good afternoon, you’re new,” he said nervously, and Brienne chuckled, “I’m sorry miss, we don’t tend to get many new customers on weekdays. I’m Pod… what can I get you.”

Brienne took a look at different pastries and sandwiches on display knowing that she should opt for something with some protein in it but the smell of warm blueberry muffins was making her drool, and they just looked too good to pass.

“I’ll take a blueberry muffin and a flat white, please Pod,” Brienne said extending her credit card and smiling softly, the boy was young, but he looked nice enough, and his smile was genuine, something she hadn’t seen too often in King’s Landing.

“I can take that up to your table Miss. Pick anywhere you like, the wifi user and password are at the bottom of your receipt.”

Somehow she had known she’d love the place and she hadn’t been wrong, her gut was almost never wrong. She pulled her laptop out, ready to draft a few ideas, and surprised herself when she started writing first words, then sentences and then paragraphs, everything flowing out of her head and fitting perfectly like pieces of a puzzle. When she looked up again, the streets were almost empty, the clock on her screen announced it was a little before 4 pm. She was about to stand up and ask if they could warm up her coffee when she saw him. A tall, lean man with an angular face and a smile that could cut glass. He was wearing a perfectly tailored navy blue suit, a pristine white shirt that did not have a single wrinkle despite the late hour of the day, and his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. There was something strangely familiar about him, and just as she forced herself to look away, she knew what it was, that man looked like she had once imagined Special Agent Jacobs would before deciding that someone that handsome could not exist.

She couldn’t help herself when the gorgeous man she saw in the street came into the store, she blushed. Why? She had no idea; it wasn’t like he had noticed her as if he would ever notice her. Lowering the brightness of her screen, she moved her computer to catch his reflexion, feeling like a complete creep. He was tall and carried himself with the ease that beautiful people had. He looked comfortable, talking amiably to the young man behind the counter and she wondered if he was a regular, he must have been. She thought he caught her looking when he turned and froze; she definitely felt his eyes moving in her direction and started to type furiously. A few minutes later, he was gone. 

When on Tuesday Brienne found herself in front of Roaring Coffee again, she knew it was only partly because her neighbors didn't allow her to concentrate enough to write at home. She asked for a sandwich and a cappuccino and got down to work. Around 3:45 pm, she caught sight of him, Corporate Ken, walking into he store. She could hear his voice echoing in the near-empty store, the girl behind the counter smiling brightly at him and flirting, bored, Brienne pretended to continue proofreading. On Wednesday, she brought the printed pages of chapter one, the ones that she was supposed to submit before the end of the week and wanted to double check before posting. She was working just fine until Corporate Ken sat two tables down. He smelled nice, like clean man and a hint of some expensive perfume. She was tempted to steal a glance up close but decided against it, just as some offbeat table drumming started. After a few minutes of not being able to concentrate, Brienne pulled on her noise canceling headphones and zoned out. On Thursday, he went in and out of the store in a matter of minutes.

 _Good_ , she thought, not really knowing why she cared so much.

She was on a writing spree on Friday afternoon, one of those sprees that didn't happen very often. Completely zoned out, words pouring out of her brain and into the screen through her fingers. Her sprees worked in two ways, they were either brilliant or complete garbage, but she didn't care, all she cared was that she was getting some writing done. She didn't notice that the store was slightly busier than usual, or the man who she called Corporate Ken walking towards her until she saw a big hand pulling a chair. Blue eyes met green eyes, and she was taken back by just how angular his face was, there was a bit of a stubble growing, but while in some men it would have looked unkept, it simply made him look stupidly handsome.

"Can I help you?", she asked utterly annoyed, goodbye inspiration.

Everything happened in a blur afterward. Him mocking her, her dropping the name of her books, something she never did, but there was something so about the smugness of that man that irritated her to no end. Her little stunt shut him right up, and with a feeling of victory, she saw him storm off. A minute later, her mind went over what had happened, and she wondered who the hell that man thought he was. So what if she wanted to seat at the same table every day, it was a good table, and they lived in a free country. She tried to channel that anger into her writing but her muse was gone, Corporate Ken with his blonde hair and angular face, was not as charming as he looked, he was actually a bit of a dick. She was still fuming when Sansa called and asked her to join the Stark clan for dinner on Saturday, something to which she happily agreed.

Her relationship with the Starks was something special; she loved every single one of them, different as they were to each other and her. She loved Catelyn Stark, who was kind and gentle and a mother figure to her. She loved Sansa, who was blooming into a strong woman but remained gentle and kind in such a harsh world. Sansa had been hurt before, badly, and so Brienne couldn't help but feel protective of the eldest Stark daughter. There was Arya, who had fire and fight in her. Brienne loved the Stark boys too. She loved Bran and Rickon, who were as different as night and day, Brienne loved Bran's old soul and Rickon's charming smile. As for the older Stark men, she liked them both, Jon and Ned, both honorable as can be in such a crooked and rotten world. When Monday came, Brienne felt energized, light and free, that was until 3:45 pm struck the clock, and certain man walked through the doors of her favorite café.

She wanted to reprimand herself for thinking that a man like that could be a nice person, it was foolish, it was foolish that she even cared. She had known men like him all her life, had been proving them wrong about both her and her writing, and yet; there was something about that particular man that kept him in her mind. She hated it, Brienne hated that she simply could not shake him off. Staring at her computer, she pretended to read another scene in which Cap saves Jacobs' ass, and then she felt a presence next to her.

“This is my table, you know?”, the man asked as he leaned on a chair, her eyes couldn't help but notice the trim waist under his open jacket flaps. "Has been for the past two years, and I'd like it back."

Brienne looked at him, at his stupid handsome face and breathed in his stupid expensive scent, and there was that smug smirk again. Something snapped inside her.

"Is it, now?", she asked, "Well, I happen to like this table so if you want it, you can come earlier and take it.” 

"That's the thing, wench; I can't. I have a job, you know? One that happens in an actual office. I come here every day and sit at this table and have a cup of coffee so I don’t kill someone. I need this table.”

If he was trying to be charming, play the pity card, he was failing miserably and adding the word wench, making it sound like an insult, wasn't helping his case.

“I’ll cut you a deal. You come in and use this marvelous table, but when I’m here, you go somewhere else, once I’m gone, you can have it again,” he said and Brienne thought the man must be some salesman, his perfect smile a handful tool to help close deals, “Ten golden dragons per week? How about that?”

Brienne's eyes grew wide in disbelief; this man was seriously offering her money so that he can have a stupid table?

“So you’re one of those guys then? Conceited rich boys, who think they can buy everyone and everything? It’s just a table, fuck off.”

Brienne had never been one to curse, and when she did, she did it under her breath. However, something about the jerk before her made her change her ways. She was about to put on her headphones when she hears his laughter, rich like chocolate, velvet, and a shiver ran down her spine. She turned around and saw his bright smile; she wanted to punch him, wipe that smile off his face, maybe with a kiss.

“You know, my brother told me to leave you be, that it’s just a table,” the man said as he pulled out a chair to sit down, “The thing about, what was it you just called me? Pretty rich boys…”

“I never said pretty,” Brienne said defensively, but she could see how she was losing ground.

“Okay, sexy rich boys then,” he said and smiled. Dimples, he had dimples, fuck. “Is that we like doing exactly opposite of what we are told, and we usually get away with it too. At least I do”, he threw in a wink for good measure and Brienne hated him.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”, the question left her lips before she could even help it.

“You honestly don’t know?”, the man asked and suddenly stood up, “You really are new here,” he said as he pulled out a magazine from a nearby stand and placed it before her.

Brienne looked down at it, trying not to look surprised as she stared at the cover and saw the same man who happened to now be standing next to her.

“Well, up close you’re not so impressive,” she said not wanting to let him have the last word. Jaime Lannister chuckled and walked away, again.

That night, as she walked around Fishmonger Square, she turned towards the little convenience store that had her favorite candy. Distracted, she walked towards the magazine section, she tried to ignore Jaime Lannister on the glossy cover of WGQ, tried to not mind his smiling face and mocking eyes. There he stood, wearing yet another tailored suit, this time without a jacket and with his sleeves rolled up, Jaime Lannister: Inside the Lion’s Den, the cover said. Feeling something close to rage, Brienne took a copy off the racks, snitched a bag of shark gummies and went to the self-checkout lane.

Laying in bed, Brienne tried to organize all the information she had gathered on Jaime Lannister. She had been right, of course, he was a rich boy, a very rich boy who would inherit his father’s company, he was handsome and could apparently be quite funny when he wanted. He had a twin sister and a younger brother, he lost his mother as a child to a strange disease and donated money to its research. He was good at what he did: the soulless industry of buying almost bankrupt businesses, bringing them back to life and then selling them again. He looked ridiculously good in green, worked out and was single. She wondered why he was unwed but figured he was just one of those bachelors who preferred one night stands and summer flings to an actual relationship, but she didn’t care, of course she didn’t, why would she, after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the welcome you've given this fic! It started like a dumb idea and it just kept getting bigger and bigger. Unlike other stories, I'm posting this as I write... so if you have an idea, please drop it in the comments.


	3. The Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gods, you seem to really enjoy telling me what I can and can not do", Jaime said with a grin.

He had to give it to her; the wench was stubborn as a mule. He thought that after his little power play on Monday she would pack up her laptop and take her writing somewhere else, but he had been wrong, so wrong. When he walked into the shop on Tuesday, there she was, laptop on and an open notebook on the table, a cup on her left, a different pastry behind her computer. He looked at her as he waited for his order and saw how hard she was trying not to turn around and look at him. When he called her name and smiled brightly as he exited the shop, she blushed, gods, those blotchy red spots on her marble skin were not a good look on her.

Sitting in his office, with a good cup of coffee on his hand, Jaime started plotting his plan for mission “table recovery.” First, he considered moving all his meetings to that Roaring Coffee location but quickly decided against it out of fear of popularizing his little sanctuary. He could cancel all his visits, take the meetings over the phone under some excuse, it was shortsighted and entirely temporary, but Jaime needed a win, he needed it more than he needed Frey to sign the papers, well, that was not true, but it was close. And so, on Wednesday morning, he surprised Mya by walking in at 8:30 am, startled her even more by ordering an almond milk latte and walked to his favorite, empty, table. 

“Almond latte?” Mya asked as she placed the ceramic mug before him and Jaime remembered that the girl didn’t usually work weekday mornings. 

“I’m a simple man, Mya, my first coffee of the day is an almond latte, The second one, around 11:30 will be a short espresso, and the third one you already know”, Jaime said with a smile as he opened the small oatmeal container.

“I wouldn’t describe you as a simple man, Mr. Lannister, but let me know if I can get you anything else.”

All morning he worked quietly on his laptop, taking a few calls over the phone or his computer and when lunchtime came around, he asked one of his interns to bring him over a salad with grilled salmon. At 2:30 pm, he smiled broadly and almost patted himself on the back as he saw Brienne Tarth entering the shop and staring straight at him. Her expression went from surprised to anger, and he loved it, she didn’t blush like the day before, but he didn’t care, he had his table. In an exciting turn of events, the wench took the table he had used the week before when trying to annoy her, she even went as far as tapping her fingers, but when she saw him taking a call, she went silent. He didn’t know if she did it because she was bored or out of respect and he didn’t want to think too hard about it, after all, all was fair in love and war. Shaking his head, he tried to push the thought away; he didn’t need to feel sorry for annoying a considerate person, even if they were few and in between in King’s Landing. 

As much as he wanted to continue his pursuit of conquest, Jaime had to sit out Thursday and Friday. It wasn’t very often that he was the one who needed to accommodate to a client’s request but Daenerys Targaryen’s business was as big as her ego, and he needed her to sign the finishing papers of a merge as quick as possible. The problem was that Daenerys Targaryen didn’t like him, something he didn’t understand, but she liked Tyrion and lucky for Jaime, Tyrion was needed in every single meeting, him being the lawyer and everything. The Lannister brothers, as Jorah Mormont used to call them, had lunch with the Targaryen crew on both Thursday and Friday, and when the papers were signed and notarized, they all went for drinks to some fancy hotel’s bar. As much as Jaime liked drinking and closing deals, all he could think about during those outings was that there was probably a wench in Aegon Hill district, sitting at his favorite table and writing his favorite books, damned her.

The Targaryen deal had been an important one, probably the most important deal of the year, Jaime still had things to work on, things that were neglected for the sake of the big merger. Armed with his computer and trusted phone, Jaime threw his belongings in the passanger’s seat of his car and drove to Aegon Hill. While the place was usually half empty on weekdays, it did come a bit more alive on the weekends. However, the gods had always smiled at him and left his table free, that was, of course, until Brienne fucking Tarth came into the picture.

And gods be damned, as Jaime parked his car, he could see a tall woman with pale blonde hair making her way towards his table. In a split of a second, a plan formed in his mind, one that could work in the long term. Smiling, he locked the car and stepped into the coffee shop, breathed in the scent of coffee and walked towards his table. When he got there, he placed his bag on an empty chair and took a seat as if he were meeting a friend.

“Hey,” he said graciously.

“Can I help you?”, the wench asked with a raised eyebrow. 

_Funny_ , he thought as he recalled how Tywin was always raising eyebrows in an attempt to make people feel stupid.

“You know, the whole concept of this brand is to have a place to work and mingle and relax, maybe meet new people, sit with someone new. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You can’t do that,” Brienne said and stuttered a little, Jaime loved it. 

“Yes, I can. Hey, Pod!”, he called out to the boy, “Can I sit here?”

“Urg, you can sit wherever you want, Mr. Lannister,” the boy answered and quickly went back to preparing a drink, Jaime would have bet fifty golden dragons the kid was making his latte. 

Brienne looked surprised, her mouth that had been hanging open quickly shut, her lips were a thin pink line. Before she could speak, Pod was walking towards them with a cup.

“We won’t fit here,” Brienne said pointing at the ridiculous amount of stuff she had laying around.

“You are right,” Jaime replied, the smile never leaving his lips, “Pod, buddy, help me switch these tables,” he said and pointed at the large four top next to their small round table clearly meant for one.

“Pod, don’t! You can’t do that! Stop acting like you own the place.”

“Gods, you seem to really enjoy telling me what I can and can not do. Well, allow me to say that I can move these tables, it is part of the concept, I would know because I was there when the designer pitch the idea. Oh, how was it that I was there, you might ask, well, I do own this place, I own this and the other 237 stores of Roaring Coffee. Now, Pod, lift with your knees and not with your back, okay, kid?”

Drinking a hot almond latte with his feet stretched under the perfect squared table, Jaime Lannister felt good. He looked out the street, there were children playing, mothers pushing strollers, a weird man mumbling to himself, it really was a perfect day in King’s Landing, and what made it even better was the sight he had right next to him. After regaining her ability to form words, Brienne had called him a coincided rich boy under her breath and transferred her many belongings from the old round table to the new one before them. She was looking so mad, frowning and biting her lower lip as she had piled up her notebooks to make room for his stuff, her consideration took some of the joy of crushing her, but Jaime decided to ignore it. An hour later, they were still sitting at their new table, Brienne typing on her computer and Jaime looking around, listening to music on his phone.

When he finished his coffee, feeling in high spirits, he pulled out his computer, a pen, and a calculator to get some work done. Not being born in the cybernetic era, there were some things that Jaime felt more comfortable doing in the old way. Sure, his computer was great for double checking, for making sure every single figure added up, but he liked something about the feeling of punching numbers and doing things in his mind, it kept him smart, kept his wit quick. He could have sworn he saw a little smile on the wench’s face when he pulled out the old calculator but he didn’t think about it twice, he certainly didn’t care. Soon, they were both in their own little worlds, one of them punching letters, the other punching numbers, each creating a different world in their screens. As Jaime finished a report, almost two hours after the entire table thing happened, he wondered if Brienne was writing the next Oathkeeper book. He was enough of a fan to know that the sixth book would be released in a few weeks, hard as he had tried, he hadn’t managed to get an advanced copy of it and it had bothered him more than he would care to admit, especially now that he knew that the author had no respect for his claims on public property. Quietly, he opened the calendar application on his computer and scrolled down, six weeks to the release of the new book, only six more weeks, he considered canceling his order and going to a midnight release, he had done that before but decided against it.

He remembered clearly the first time he allowed Tyrion to drag him to one of those release events. It was for the third book, the one that happened in the fictitious countries of Spain and Morrocco; he had traveled enough to know that the whole persecution scene in Royal House of Seville was inspired in the Water Gardens of Dorne. Somehow, that had made it even more interesting for him, the fact that he could picture the streets and relate to the places that were described in the book. He turned slightly to where the wench sat; there was a rumor that the seventh book would take place somewhere inspired by King’s Landing. If Brienne Tarth was sitting next to him in the very city, it could mean the rumor was true; it could also mean that she had press things to do. Trying to get the Oathkeeper series out of his head, mainly because he didn’t want to go down the spirals of the many theories he followed, Jaime went back to crunching numbers.

As the day went on and Jaime got hungrier, he decided that maybe it was time to call it a day. He had used his table, even if he had to share, but he was sure that Brienne would be gone come Monday morning. Just when he was about to gather his belongings, Pod started setting up some demonstration on the large table in the middle of the room, people stopped what they were doing and instead turned to look at the young boy. Jaime was about to ask what was going on when he turned to the board on the opposite side of the room, in big bold letters it announced a Cold Brew Coffee Tasting event at precisely that time. He had never been a part of those, not being a very adventurous coffee drinker being one reason and the other being that he was never actually in the store for when those happened. Curiosity won over him, and although he closed his laptop, he didn’t bag it. Instead, he opted to turn around to face young Pod and the four different funny looking things he had on the table. 

“Hi, I’m Podrick,” he announced with a bright smile, “I hope you’re all doing well! Today we’ll be tasting some cold brews; please feel free to ask questions.”

_I should get that boy a raise_ , Jaime thought after forty-five minutes of listening to the boy talking about beans and temperatures and so many other things that he didn’t even know were related to coffee.

He couldn’t help but notice that Brienne had tried to work through the tasting, tried being the key word, because fifteen minutes into the event, she just gave up and started paying attention. Pod had a way to make people feel included, Jaime had heard from their marketing team that those events were meant to encourage the feeling of community but that they weren’t having the desired effect. Clearly, his marketing guy had never seen Podrick conduct one of the events, young and respectful, the lad had asked people for their names, their likes and dislikes about coffee, about flavors. He had encouraged everyone to try little sips of the brews, clean their palates, munch on some food as possible pairings; he had answered every question that was thrown at him, gods, even Jaime had been immersed in the event by the end of it. With a smile, Pod had then wrapped things up by telling customers that they could order those coffees when they visited, or if they wanted, buy the beans and have some at home for much cheaper. He got a laugh at that, but a few minutes later Jaime saw a couple of people buying the beans and knew that the boy had talent, he wondered what it was he studied at university.

A silent routine developed after that Saturday morning, every single day of the following week, Jaime went to Roaring Coffee, sat on the squared table and enjoyed a cup of coffee. Somedays he read something on his iPad, others he would pick a magazine or bring his own, only one day did he pick up a phone call to do business, but he kept it short, noticing that the wench’s typing slowed down when he was talking. A week later, on Saturday morning, Jaime went in and sat at his table, the morning paper spread before him and a warm croissant to go along with the almond latte, life was, after all, a matter of balance and he was feeling a little bit rowdy about his diet. Around 10 am, realized that Brienne wasn’t there and thought that maybe she was running late, or perhaps she didn’t even write on weekends, writers needed days off, right? Around 11, he realized that she wasn’t coming, a bit confused, Jaime packed up his things and went home.

The first thing he noticed on Monday afternoon was that his table was empty. He looked around, thinking that maybe he had finally won and she had sat somewhere else, but she wasn’t there. He considered asking Pod if he had seen Brienne that day but decided against it, why would he care? But when he got to his table and sat down, the vast wood before him felt too big, too lonely. Trying to brush off the feeling, Jaime picked up a magazine and started reading, funny thing, the article he read was about the island of Tarth, something about it bothered him.

Tarth, like her last name, he realized as he crossed the door to his apartment. Feeling like he indeed was the stupidest Lannister, Jaime poured himself a glass of scotch and turned on his computer. Typing into the search engine the wench’s last name, Jaime Lannister was surprised to find out that Brienne Tarth wasn’t only the best selling author of his favorite books, she was also the heir to a certain island not too far from Storm’s End.

On Tuesday early afternoon, Jaime Lannister entered Roaring Coffee as if he owned the place, well, as if he owned more than just 37% of it. Feeling adventurous, he asked for the iced version of his drink, even if fall was already starting to make an appearance in the weather, with his drink and his knowledge, he sat down at the empty table and waited. He lost the grin thirty minutes into the hour, the smile after an hour, and by four, all the fun was sucked out of the list of smart comments he had prepared on his way over. He looked over at the counter where Randa talked to a young girl, their eyes met, and she smiled at him, sensuality dripping from her gaze, somehow, it didn’t feel right to smile back at her right then.

When he found the table empty on Wednesday, Jaime decided to be a grown up and ask Mya what time the wench usually got in. Brienne was, after all, new in town and a successful writer, if anything had happened to her, maybe she didn’t have anyone to report it to the authorities. Trying to be casual, Jaime pretended to stare at the glass display of sandwiches and pastries, he wasn’t hungry, but he wanted to buy time until the line grew shorter. Finally, after a few minutes of feeling like a fool reading all the ingredients in a roast beef sandwich, Jaime approached Mya.

“Hey Mya”, he asked softy, almost cautiously.

“Hi Mr. Lannister, you okay?”

He was okay, of course he was okay, he was just trying to find a way to ask after… well, Brienne wasn’t a friend, and she was definitely not a colleague, she was… an acquaintance. Yes, Jaime wanted to ask what time his acquaintance, Brienne, usually arrived at the coffee shop.

“Yeah, yes. Hey Mya, you wouldn’t happen to know what time the blonde lady who sits at my beautiful table usually comes in, do you?”

“Oh… I really shouldn’t give out that information, Mr. Lannister”, Mya said feeling obviously uncomfortable.

“Of course! Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Mya took a minute to clear her throat and moved on to preparing his order; when she called his name, he was surprised to see that she handed him a paper cup. It had been Mya’s idea that he drank out of the ceramic mugs, she had gone into a whole speech about recycling and sustainability and how the coffee industry was killing the trees in the north and so on. Confused, Jaime went to sit at his table, when he placed the cup down, he saw the small scribble of his name and under it, a simple math expression: T – 2. Smiling, Jaime raised his cup towards Mya.

At 1:30 pm on Wednesday, Jaime entered Roaring Coffee with a bright smile, he had seen her from across the street, she really was easy to spot. Instead of stopping by the counter first, he went directly to the table, all his prepared jokes and comebacks ready at the back of his mind to create some chaos.

“You own an island!”, he said as he plopped down on an empty chair; if Brienne saw him coming, she didn’t stir.

“I don’t own an island. My family only owns part of the land; we gave out…”

“Same thing! You own an island, and you were calling me a pretty rich boy”, Jaime said with a smirk.

When there was no comeback, no witty remark or correction that she never called him pretty, Jaime’s smile faded. For the first time in a while, he took a moment to actually pay attention to the person before him. Yes, there she was, pale blonde hair and freckles on her face and the bluest of eyes. But her skin looked paler, a bit green actually, there were dark bags under her eyes, and she looked cold, very cold, despite the sun shining brightly and coming through the window.

“Is everything okay? I haven’t seen you since Friday”, he asked, his voice plain but honest.

“Oh,” the word seemed to have escaped her lips, she paused the writing and looked anywhere but towards him, “I got sick, wasn’t feeling too good.”

Jaime looked at the table; only her laptop was out, there was no notebook or mug, no forgotten pastry or sandwich. Brienne Tarth was homely, she was plain, but right then, she looked sad and alone. He was about to say something when his phone went off, checking the caller ID, he saw it was Tywin, one simply didn’t ignore a call from Tywin. 

“Got to go wench, hope you feel better,” he said and stood up.

She didn’t turn to look at him go, resting her forehead against her hand, Brienne scrolled up her screen, probably trying to check the last thing she wrote. As usual, Tywin was short and to the point, he needed Jaime in the office ASAP. Letting a sigh out, Jaime pocketed the phone and went over to the bar, placing a golden dragon before Pod, he asked the lad to give Brienne a chamomile tea, she looked like she needed it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you all think Jaime usually has for his third coffee?
> 
> I think I've said this before but usually I have at least an outline for each story I post, with this one though, I just had the first few chapters and I'm starting to hit a wall, anyway, I'll keep working on this! Hope you liked the update and thank you of reading!


	4. The Chamomile Tea & Cookie Incidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t call me wench,” she said.
> 
> “It’s an endearment term. I call you wench, you call me a pretty rich boy, it’s our thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two very quick things.  
> First, a little correction was done in chapter 2. The fifth book happens in the Iron Islands, the sixth book is the one that happens in the Reach.
> 
> Second, thank you all for your continuing support in reading, commenting and leaving kudos; after a good amount of coffee, I was able to make some progress on the following chapters! You can expect an update around Wednesday.

Jaime Lannister was an interesting man, a complicated man, actually, not interesting, because she had no interest in learning more about him. She hadn’t expected him to act like a decent human being. She had expected silence, expected him not even to notice that she had missed a few days of writing, in the best case scenario, she expected a few rude comments about days being better with the table all for himself. But Jaime Lannister noticing that he was not the only human being on the planet? Jaime Lannister being nice? No, she had not expected that. And when Pod approached her with a hot cup of chamomile tea and said it was a gift from ‘Mr. Lannister’, she couldn’t help but blush. The boy was sweet enough not to say anything when she blushed; he even asked if there was anything he could get from her, but she politely declined.

On Thursday, feeling much better than the days before, Brienne ventured to the coffee shop after having some soup from lunch, she asked for a different tea, something the girl who wasn’t always flirting recommended and went on to do some research about the history of King’s Landing. At 3:45 pm, the bell at the door chimed, and Brienne’s head shot up, he saw her looking, and she blushed. If she for a minute thought that things had changed because Jaime Lannister asked why she had missed a few days of work, she was utterly wrong. That day, Jaime walked towards the table, sat, down and pushed her things around a little to liberate what he definitely thought was his half of the table and proceeded to ignored her for the following hour. At 4:45 pm he stood up, picked up his empty coffee mug, the wrapper of the crackers she had been munching on and left the store.

If Brienne had to be honest, she absolutely hated the new table arrangement. She liked having that little round table to herself, she liked how it perfectly fit her computer, and if she aligned her things in a diagonal, it would fit her coffee mug to the right and a plate to the left. She liked that she could place her notebooks or reading materials on one chair while using the other one for her purse. She liked how to sunbeams came in but didn’t blind her, how it made her feel warm without feeling too hot. She liked how she could see almost the entire shop from that place, the front door, and the sides, the people who came in and waited for their drinks by the bar, it made her feel safe like she could survey the place with only a glance. Maybe that was why Jaime Lannister liked that table so much, it was, after all, a pretty privileged location.

The squared table changed everything. For starters, she had more room. Although she had piled up her things wat first, she soon realized that the man wasn’t hogging all the space and that she had no need to do so. He had unpacked his laptop and calculator, and he had proceeded to work without causing any trouble. She was able to put her coffee mug not behind her computer but next to it, making it way easier to reach. Lannister had also alined the table in a diagonal, so both of them had a clear view of the entire shop and could enjoy the sun without being blinded. He had taken the seat to her left, with his back to the wall, and soon it felt as if they had been sharing a table for forever. She had forgotten about him until Pod started setting up the tasting and Jaime Lannister’s attention got reeled in. Gods, she had been so close to getting rid of him! And yet, there he was, he had closed his computer and pulled away his chair, he was actually paying attention to the young man, and he was smiling, it was a smile like the one she had seen on that magazine cover, only at that moment, it felt real. After a few minutes of trying to get some work done, she just gave up and decided to pay attention to what was going on in the room.

After the chamomile episode, they started developing a silent routine. Three out of five days she wrote, two days she dedicated to research and planning out the plot and twists, and if she happened to be working in the café on Saturdays, she would revise the thing she wrote in during the week. Saturdays were tricky because sometimes she would like to read the scenes where they happened, either at the Red Keep, the Dragon Pit or the bay, but still, she always seemed to find an excuse to stop by Roaring Coffee, and more often than not, she’d see him sitting there. Brienne was a bit reluctant to admit that some Saturdays she took the long way home just to walk that street and peak through the window to see if he was there or not. 

But while the weekends could be hit or miss, the weekdays were predictable, and like everything that was a constant and reliable in her life, Brienne liked it. Monday through Friday she would go into the coffee shop, order whatever Pod or Mya recommended, or the exact opposite of what Randa wanted to push, something to eat and sit down at their table. About two hours after she had arrived, the bell would chime, and Jaime Lannister would walk in. If Pod was working, he’d say a courteous greeting, if Mya was behind the counter, Jaime's voice would be kind, and if it were Randa pouring his coffee, she’d almost always hear booming laughter and a flirty giggle from the girl.

Jaime would approach the table, bid her a good afternoon and take a sit. Being a writer, Brienne was observant; sometimes she couldn’t even help herself from noticing tiny details, that was how she ended up knowing how long Lannister would be staying from just one quick look at him. If he had his bag with him, he’d stay until around five or five thirty, most likely he’d have a fancy tablet with him, those that used the pen and attachable keyboard. When he brought the bag he would remain silent, either listening to music with headphones on or just immersed in whatever he did, she sometimes wondered what it was that took his undivided attention. A few times he had received phone calls while working, but he had been surprisingly short, and when once or twice the call seemed to be taking longer than usual, he just left his things behind and took it outside. As much as she liked the days where he worked, if she was honest, she enjoyed the other days better, the days when he’d walk in with just his phone and wallet on him.

On those days he was much more carefree, he smiled at her when he sat, made a few comments on her drink or food or the way she had, “unbelievably girly handwriting.” On the phone and wallet kind of days, he wouldn’t stay as long, less than an hour usually, and he would see a few videos on his phone and now and then he’d chuckle. She liked the sound of it, found it slightly contagious and sometimes she wouldn’t be able to fight the urge to smile after hearing him. Those were the days when she would pretend to be bothered by his presence, by his perfect profile, his expensive suits, his cologne. Jaime Lannister was a distraction, but he was a welcomed one, especially when she needed to write paced down scenes, or scenes between Cap and Jacobs. 

“Hey wench,” he said one day as he sat down next to her, it was a phone and wallet kind of day, and Brienne instantly knew that he was feeling chattier than ever. 

“Don’t call me wench,” she said as she pushed her notebook aside, though there wasn’t any need for that.

“It’s an endearment term. I call you wench, you call me a pretty rich boy, it’s our thing”, he said with that dimpled smile, and she blushed. 

_It’s our thing_ , she thought, she had never had a 'thing' with anyone before, much less a boy. _Not a boy, a man. I have a ‘thing’ with a man,_ the sole phrasing of that made her shiver uncomfortably.

“I’ve never called you pretty,” she said stubbornly, gods, they did have a thing.

“Not out loud at least. Anyway, I feel like having something sweet, how about we share a cookie?”

After the cookie sharing episode, things shifted in their routine once more. Every so often, and only on phone and wallet days, Jaime would have a cup of coffee and when he was half done with it, he’d stand up and pick something to eat. Why he needed to share something as small as a cookie or a muffin or a croissant, she had no idea, but he always had it cut in half and placed the plate between them. Once she tried to pay for her half, he dismissed her saying he could afford one cookie, being a Lannister and everything. Another time she had tried to decline the pastry, but then her stomach had growled, and he laughed, that day she decided there were fights not worth fighting.

A bit unsure about how comfortable she felt sharing a table with someone who was virtually a stranger, Brienne decided to skip to the coffee shop every other Saturday. It ended up working perfectly for her, she got her revising done, spent her days off with Sansa and her friends and even started meeting new people. Feeling comfortable with the pace she had and the number of chapters under her belt, Brienne went into Roaring Coffee on a Saturday afternoon with a book she had meant to start. She was surprised to see Jaime already there, that day he wore dark pants and a red checkered shirt, she wondered if the man owned any jeans and t-shirts, he always seemed to be wearing suits or dress pants and button downs. After ordering her coffee, she went to sit next to him, her chair empty and waiting for her. She was surprised to see that he had a paperback book with him, and he looked utterly immersed in it. Reading over his shoulder, she saw the title of the book on one of the pages and smiled; she too liked the saga of the university professor who always managed to get himself in the most tricky situations due to his knowledge of symbols and tendency to pick up gorgeous women. 

He didn’t say hi, and she didn’t mind, opening her own book, she traveled to another world. About an hour later, when she tore her eyes away from the pages and blinked slowly to irrigate her eyeballs, she saw that while she had read almost a fourth of the book, Jaime had only flipped a couple of pages.

“I didn’t know you could read,” she said mockingly, in the few months since they had met she had never seen him reading anything but things from work and those pages seemed to have a lot of numbers on them.

“I can,” he said rather defensively, she was taken back, Jaime Lannister never showed if he was bothered by anything, “It just takes me longer because I’m dyslexic.”

Feeling like a complete idiot, worst, feeling like a bully, Brienne blushed but refused to look away.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t know”, she said pathetically.

“People never do, they never ask,” Jaime replied under his breath, “whatever,” he added as an afterthought.

They didn’t say a word after that, didn’t even look at each other. But on Monday afternoon, when Jaime walked in, she had his coffee waiting at the table and a cookie to split.

“Oatmeal cookie?”, he asked quietly, “What are you, a thousand?” he added with a smile.

Things had changed, yet again, after her mean comment about his slow reading speed. Jaime had promptly accepted her apology and proceeded to tell her not to sweat over it, that he had a thicker skin than what she had seen but that sometimes it bothered him that he took so long to read. He confessed how bad his dyslexia was, that although it was getting better, he had to work harder than anyone, just to catch up. He told her that he spent long hours working through documents that his brother read in a matter of minutes and then went on to talk how his brother was some sort of genius, admiration, and love evident in his voice. When he was done, they remained silent, he paid attention to his work and she relaxed doing the crosswords. 

“Sixteen down is chi-squared,” Jaime said as he peeked over her shoulder, his breath making the small hairs on her neck rise, the mixture of coffee and cologne intoxicating at such proximity. After a heartbeat, she counted the squares with the back of her pencil and saw it fit, “how did you know that?”

“Lots of hours reading very boring statistics books,” he said with a smirk on his face.

* * *

As much as she loved Sansa Stark, Brienne some days she hated her. She didn’t know how she had ended up agreeing to go to a bar on Friday night, she never went to bars, much less to bars in sketchy parts of Flea Bottom. But Sansa had been very excited when Tyrion suggested they all went out for drinks, one last outing before Brienne got consumed with the press and all the mess that came with a book release, and she had agreed. Sansa had offered to pick her up, but Brienne had declined, after close inspection of her trusty subway map, she had found a station not too far away from the bar Tyrion had suggested. She did agree to have Sansa drive her back home once the night was over, not too excited about taking the subway back home when it was dark.

At 8 pm on a Friday night, Brienne found herself standing in front of The Hound’s Bar. Walking nervously through the doors, she scanned the place in hopes of finding Sansa’s auburn head, but her search came short.

“You lost?”, a gruff voice came from behind the bar.

The man before her was tall, taller than her which was something quite uncommon. He also had scars on the right side of his face, but that didn’t bother her much, being familiar with judgmental looks that those who weren’t pretty got.

“Brienne!” a familiar and cheery voice broke the silence.

She saw Sansa’s friend, Tyrion, making his way to her, short legs making him wobble a little, though he walked with the confidence of a man taller than the bartender himself, “That’s Clegane, he owns the bar and likes to frighten new faces. Play nice, Clegane, she’s Sansa’s friend”, the short man said with a smile.

At the sound of Sansa’s name, the gruff bartender rolled his eyes and mumbled something. Brienne couldn’t help but find the interaction between the two men not only odd but also friendly, how was it that a man as clean cut as Tyrion was friends with a man who looked like he could stir up hell in a second? She followed Tyrion to the end of the bar, and they made small talk for a few minutes. When Brienne heard someone walking towards them, she turned hoping to find Sansa but was shocked at the sight before her. Walking towards them, wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt, Jaime Lannister seemed as surprised as she was, though only for a second, because then a smile appeared on his lips.

“Brother, you didn’t tell me Brienne would be here,” Jaime said as he sat next to her.

“Brother?”, she couldn’t help but ask, the second the question left her lips, it all made sense. Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, King’s Landing was making her dumber, must have been the lack of oxygen.

“Gods, you really don’t know anything about the big city, do you, wench?” he asked in her direction and then turned towards his brother, “So, has Clegane scared her yet? Did I miss it? Did you use the ‘she is Sansa’s friend’ line?”

“Shut up, you wankers,” Clegane said in a deadly low voice as he placed two glasses of scotch on the table and her soda.

“He’s been in love with Sansa Stark for so long that his thoughts were illegal at some point,” Tyrion added with a mocking smile and Brienne wondered if all Lannisters smiled the same.

“Shut up,” Clegane said again, almost in a growl.

“That long, huh?” Jaime said, adding coal to the fire.

“Shut. Up.”

“Are you boys being mean?” Sansa Stark’s voice suddenly broke the tense environment surrounding their table.

At the sound of Sansa’s sweet voice, Clegane seemed to tense up further, only to relax a little when her hand brushed softly against his arm before climbing into the booth next to Tyrion. Sansa smiled at everyone, and Clegane disappeared without saying a word. A few minutes later, a waitress came around with a glass of red wine and four menus.

“You know,” Tyrion said still smiling as they read their menus, “He only serves that dornish red to you. I asked for a glass once, got told to fuck off.”

“Well, he’s a sweetheart,” Sansa replied not missing a beat, a soft smile on her face. Somehow, Brienne had a hard time imagining a man like Clegane being a sweetheart.

If she had to put the night on a scale, Brienne would say it was a lovely evening. After much teasing, she agreed to have a glass of wine; the boys started teasing her and asking to taste Sansa’s wine to make sure it came from the same bottle, it did. Spending the night with adults who could carry an intelligent and fun conversation was something new for her, something new that she found she enjoyed very much. They talked about books for a while, they talked about the upcoming commitments Brienne would have to attend for the book launch, and Tyrion casually asked how she was enjoying King’s Landing. Always honest to a fault, she told them that King’s Landing was much better on paper than in real life, something that Sansa quickly agreed to, and then the two girls went on to say how they disliked the air, the humidity, the rudeness of people. The Lannister boys had been born in the West, but having lived most of their adult lives in the capital, they seemed to be immune to the little things that annoyed the girls so much. 

When Tyrion asked about Brienne’s book, she grew silent, as a personal policy, she did not discuss the events of her books with anyone other than her editor, and on occasions her publisher. He seemed to notice her discomfort because he quickly rephrased his question, asking about the progress and her writing process, as an avid reader, Tyrion had always dreamed of asking one of his favorite authors how their brain worked and having her before him was a chance he wasn’t going to miss. With a shy smile, Brienne talked vaguely about her writing process, sharing only a few more details than she would do in a regular interview. She told Tyrion how it usually started with a phrase, or a scene, and then she figured things that she wanted to take place, or felt that needed to take place. The harder part, she said, was to fill the space between the scenes she had imagined, though most times those were the things that made the story good. She was so immersed in having someone actually listen to what she had to say because he was interested and not because it was their job; that she went on and on for almost fifteen minutes. When she finished, she blushed and apologized for monopolizing the conversation, but no one seemed to care. 

When it was well past midnight, the bartender, Sandor, she learned was his name, asked if he could join them. The first to reply was Sansa, saying that of course he could, and he pulled a chair and sat by the end of the table. He went ahead and asked how they all knew Brienne and what brought her to his end of town. Brienne smiled as Sansa answered for her, the bright smile on the younger girl’s face was something Brienne didn’t miss, and apparently, neither did the Lannister boys. 

“Brienne works with me. Tyrion helped me with some of her papers and Jaime… wait, Brienne, how do you know Jaime?”, Sansa asked, a cheeky smile forming on her face. 

“We have history. It involves coffee and a table”, Jaime said as if that information was more than enough to explain their situation. 

“Wait, I know who you are”, Sandor Clegane said as he grabbed a handful of pretzels from the center of the table, “You write those books…”

“The ones with the letters, you mean?”, Jaime Lannister asked.

“The ones with no pictures?”, added Tyrion.

“The ones with the badass chick and the probably closeted agent,” Sandor said, rolling his eyes at the Lannisters.

“Jacobs is not closeted!”, Jaime said with more passion than Brienne had ever seen him convey, “He’s not, right?!”, he asked turning to look at Brienne.

“I didn’t know you read my books; I’m quite flattered.”

“Well, this one here gave me a copy of the first one,” Sandor said as he cocked his head towards Sansa, who was smiling brightly at him, “she makes good recommendations.”

“Wench!”, Jaime interrupted, “he’s not, right!?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you guys but I absolutely loved writing the way the Lannister boys and the Hound treat each other; I might have found another favorite thing in this fandom.


	5. Dornish Films & Orange Soda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re friends,” Jaime said and felt like a child.
> 
> “No, we are not… we just work together sometimes”, she said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear readers, this story is no longer at risk of being pushed aside! I have broken through the wall and will update on Sunday!

Summer was quickly fading away, the days growing colder as the weeks passed by and if Jaime Lannister loved getting his coffee in the spring and summer, it was an absolute delight to have that little haven during the fall and winter. Hanging out with Brienne and Tyrion, Sansa Stark too, had been fun, refreshing even, and he found himself wondering if another encounter outside the coffee shop would happen anytime soon. Jaime wasn’t a man who sat and waited for things to happen. He was the kind of man who stood up and grabbed whatever he wanted, but there was something about his relationship with Brienne, with the dynamics of the whole thing that made it feel so delicate that he didn’t want to risk altering the balance. It was nice to hang out with someone who didn’t seem to care about his last name, who insisted on paying for half a cookie and didn’t bother him while working. Brienne Tarth was the kind of best friend he had always wanted, the kind of best friend one saw in the movies, and the fact that despite spending so much time together, she was still a virtual stranger made him feel odd. He probably knew more about his dumb secretary than about the wench, and that was something he didn’t like too much.

So, a few days after their group outing, a few days of trying not to disturb the balance of their relationship but slowly, cautiously, trying to engage in more conversations with her but getting nowhere, Jaime supposed that maybe it was time to alter the balance. He made a plan; he would ask Brienne if she wanted to help as a mystery client for a brand new Roaring Coffee location, it would be something they could do together and still look not too out of the ordinary. He would offer to pick her up and drive to the place, they would talk about the service, if the coffee tasted as good, and later, if things worked out all right, he might throw the idea of having dinner, as a thank you, of course. He was just outside the store when he saw something that caught his eye. 

_You have got to be fucking kidding me_ ; he thought when he stepped into the coffee shop, just like he had done almost three months ago, and saw someone sitting on his table, on his chair and touching things that belonged to his wench. Well, not his, but, that was beside the point.

As Jaime walked towards the table, he bumped into someone and heard a familiar voice apologize, taking his eyes off the redheaded giant, Jaime turned to find Brienne walking to their table. He was about to share the disturbing news when she continued walking, and for the first time, Jaime saw that there were two cups before the man. Slowing down, he cautiously kept walking until he was behind an empty chair, his hands gripping its back so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

“Okay, B, I’m off then,” the redhead giant said as he stood up, Jaime measured him and felt cocky realizing that he was slightly taller, “You’ve got my number, call me. Later mate”

Jaime stood there watching the odd man walked away; he was definitely not from around town, he looked too wrong to be from King’s Landing, the long hair, the bushy beard, the very casual clothes. No, he didn’t like that man, and he didn’t like the way he had been so familiar with Brienne as if they were old friends when he only knew her last name because he read her books. Jaime sat down silently, waiting for an introduction from Brienne, definitely not an explanation, but the minutes went by, and she said nothing; tired, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Who was that?”, he asked a little annoyed, though he tried not to sound so.

“A friend,” Brienne replied nonchalantly, her eyes already glued to her screen, the annoyance of his interruption evident in her voice.

“We’re friends,” Jaime said and felt like a child.

Something unusual happened then, Brienne stopped typing mid-sentence and turned to look at him. Her bright blue eyes a little wider than usual, her skin paler, her mouth slightly opened; she gulped and waited for a moment as if trying to organize her thoughts.

“No, we are not… we just work together sometimes”, she said softly. If it had been any other day, he would be hurt, but right then he was angry that she had shared their table with a complete stranger and that she didn’t even have the decency to introduce them.

“Well, let’s be friends then. That’s my spot”, Jaime said pointing to the now empty chair across from him, “And he can’t sit there. 

He was ready for her anger, ready for the mouthful he was about to receive. In his experience, Brienne Tarth could tell him over and over what he could and couldn’t do, but he couldn’t do the same to her. Once, he had told her that she couldn’t keep buying him coffees and she had gone on a half an hour rant saying how that was the most chauvinistic thing he had ever said, that she was a free and independent woman who could buy coffees to whomever the hell she wanted. After having her tire herself out, he had raised his hands in defeat and said that he didn’t mean it that way, only that some days he ran late and he liked his coffee best when scalding hot. That hadn’t won him the argument though; she had just gone ahead and prepaid for his drink so it would be made when he walked in. He was more than ready to have his ear chewed off and then, for the second time in the day; he was surprised, only this time it was by her laughter.

Listening to Brienne laugh was something strange, like a sighting of the Sasquatch, she didn’t do it often, and if she did, it was short and over before it could be registered. But he liked making her laugh; he liked telling a bad joke and seeing her fight the instinct to call him dumb, he liked making Pod blush and have her bite her lip in an attempt not to giggle. A full laugh, one that came from the belly and sometimes ended up with a snort, that was something almost impossible to gain, he had only seen it once, over at Clegane’s bar when they were all a bit tipsy. But there she was, hiding names of odd-looking men and laughing at him with not a single care in the world.

“You want to be friends so that no one else sits on your chair? Jaime Lannister, you might have an attachment issue with this spot.”

“Well, we’ve already been over the fact that we both love this table,” he said trying to sound smug. “Look, I think we spend a fair amount of time together and, in my opinion, we get along quite well, at least we don’t want to kill each other anymore. Wouldn’t it make sense to know each other a bit better?”

“I know plenty about you,” she replied, and he noticed that his smugness had rubbed off on her, “I know plenty about men like you,” she added with a little bite.

“No Brienne, you know plenty about my coffee order. If you really knew about me, you’d know there are no men like me, only me. But I won’t beg, I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after, let me know if you change your mind.”

Although it shouldn’t have messed up his afternoon, the little encounter with Brienne’s “friend” and then the way she seemed to have no interest in becoming friends, did take a toll on his mood. He wasn’t proud of it, but it happened, and so he simply decided to continue working. On Wednesday, he didn’t feel like hanging out with Brienne, Wednesdays were usually intense writing days for her, so she wouldn’t even notice if he was gone. He couldn't let her win, though, couldn't let her see that she had hurt his feelings. 'The lion does not concern itself with the opinion of the sheep' Tywin used to say, and he was not going to miss his afternoon coffees because some tall, blonde, giant didn’t want to be friends with him. For the rest of the week, he simply walked into the shop, greeted whoever was behind the bar and ordered his coffee, once it had been paid for, but he insisted that he would pay for his own and poor Mya couldn’t refuse him. He caught her looking sometimes, stealing a glance when he walked in or when he stood by the bar, checking his phone or waiting for his order.

That Friday, Jaime went to Clegane’s with every intention of getting drunk, he didn’t bring his car, had only cash on his wallet, and even went as far as letting Sandor know that there was a high chance of needing to be hurled up the stairs. When he found Tyrion, his little brother was quite surprised to see Jaime ordering shots instead of the regular Manhattan or beer, but never one to refuse a drink, Tyrion matched him shot for shot. Around midnight, with his mind swarming and his tongue loosened, Jaime vented about Brienne and the redhead man.

“Red hair, build like a door, bushy beard?”, Tyrion asked after listening to Jaime complain for half an hour.

“How the fuck do you know everything?”

“It’s what I do. I drink, and I know things”, Tyrion said with a smile, the little man still not drunk, “Jaime, my sweet brother, I think you meet book number four.”

* * *

Sandor Clegane’s apartment was not what one would expect after a five-minute conversation with the man. The first time Jaime had woken up there, he thought he had been kidnapped only to realize he had been too prompt to judge. Sitting on top of the bar, the only way to access the apartment was through a back alley and a set of stairs. The floor was always clean, and the entire apartment had an open concept, the living room had a huge TV and big sectional couch, the kitchen was well equipped, and though the fridge’s contents were scarce, they were exactly what a man who took really good care of his body needed. Clegane had a guest room that he never offered to either Lannister, always dumping them into the couch, but the place was always spotless. The few pictures he had were landscapes of the North, the West, and Dorne; it looked like an artist’s apartment much more than it looked like a bar owner’s living quarters. There were huge bookshelves by the TV, and that was where he found a copy of the fourth book in the Oathkeeper series. 

Fighting a migraine, Jaime lifted himself from the couch and walked towards the bookshelf; he picked up the book. He had liked that book; there were adventures and snow and, for once, Special Agent Jacob’s had saved Cap’s ass instead of having it the other way around. He felt he was on the verge of something when Clegane stepped out of his room and loudly told him to stop touching his stuff and get the hell home. Thanking him for his hospitality, Jaime placed the book back on the shelve, picked up his things and walked out; he had a copy at home, he could piece it together after a cup of coffee and a shower. Only he passed out the second he touched his bed, coffee and shower be damned.

On Monday afternoon, Jaime walked into Roaring Coffee with his head held high and his confidence on full blast. He was over the entire friends/not friends issue. He had plenty of friends; he could get an invitation to whichever party he wanted on Westeros and most of the Free Cities, he could walk into any restaurant and get a table. He was Jaime Fucking Lannister, and he didn’t concern himself with the opinion of the sheep.

He was in luck too, because although Monday afternoons were usually Pod’s shift, he found a very smiling Randa behind the counter. He knew for a fact that Brienne liked Randa the least, and while he wasn’t there to make Brienne uncomfortable or act like a child, he would not let the opportunity slide either. He waited patiently for the tourists to order their coffees and make conversation before approaching the young girl with a winning smile. He pulled a face as he fake inspected her, his eyes roamed from her hair to her eyes and then, ever so smoothly, to her lips for just a second. Randa blushed a little, and he knew he had won.

“You look prettier today, have you done anything to your hair?” he asked innocently.

“You know I haven’t, Mr. Lannister,” Randa said as she pulled the espresso shot, “But thank you for the compliment, I kinda needed it.”

“Well, I’m always happy to help. Thanks, Randa”, he said with a genuine smile and made his way to the table.

He nodded at Brienne, and she nodded back at him, pulling out his phone, he started searching for the plot and most commented scenes of Oathkeeper: Beyond the Vale of Death. He felt a bit awkward researching a book with the author sitting next to him, but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Brienne Tarth wouldn’t try to sneak a peak of his screen, she was too big and too clumsy ever to succeed. The first thing he found was the summary of the plot, which he already knew. There were a few discussions on the realism of skiing down the mountains while being chased and shot at; there were other discussions where fans theorized of what would happen next, as the fourth book left a cliffhanger in the end. And finally, when he was about to give up and try to forget the idea, he found gold. Apparently, someone had a blog where they analyzed every man in Cap’s life. The section on Cap and Jacob’s relationship was the largest; there was also a section for Cap’s father, her dead brother, some men she had trained with or who were her superiors and many more. Using the filters, he selected only the men who appeared on the fourth book and two jumps later, he found him. The character’s name was Wilde Inning, the few things said about his aspect included distinctive red hair and a goofy smile. There were quite some fans who liked the idea of Cap getting into a relationship with that Wilde character, Jaime had thought the man wouldn’t understand Cap, so he had paid no attention to him. Now he wanted to know everything about Wilde Inning, especially when he remembered that the man had made an appearance or been mentioned in other installments too.

Tyrion’s voice rang in his ears, 'I think you meet book number four,' he had said.

_He does sound familiar_ , Jaime thought after closing the tabs on his phone browser.

But if the redhead was in book four, what did that mean? Was he an old flame? A current fling? Was Brienne in a relationship? As they weren’t friends, he had never asked, and the idea had never even crossed his mind. Going over the brief interaction he had witnessed, he quickly realized they weren’t together; the man wouldn’t have asked her to call him if they were. So that left two options, either they had been involved in the past, or they were just friends. However, there was something in the way the man looked at her that Jaime knew wasn’t just friendly. If they had been in a relationship though, that opened so many more questions; the mathematician side of his brain started a list of possibilities and probabilities.

“Jaime?”, Brienne’s voice broke his train of thought, and while in the office he would have threatened to kill whoever interrupted his thinking, he was quite grateful for hers, as he didn’t like where his thoughts were going, “did you hear what I said?" 

“No, sorry, got lost in thought,” he apologized and forgot to be smug and careless, to show her he didn’t care they weren’t friends.

“I asked if you liked movies. There’s a showing at Aemon’s Theater of Dornish independent films. I don’t know if that’s your scene but… I figured I could ask.”

Jaime took a look at her and knew she was trying to give a peace offering, he could be a petty man, a despicable person, but he wasn’t heartless. From what little he knew about her, he was sure it was taking her a lot even to imply going to the movies together, something told him that she was used to rejection, but even he knew that being used to it didn’t soften the blow.

“I like popcorn,” he said, “Dornish indie film, Meeren Festival of Arts, even the crap that Frey director makes, as long as there’s popcorn, I see it as a win.”

“Well, if you’re free on Saturday, they are having a showing of this film I’ve meant to see, it starts at 4. I can get the tickets on my way home today; it’s not far from where I live.”

“You get the tickets; I’ll get the popcorn,” he said but stopped before adding something stupid.

“I’ll see you Saturday then, got a few appointments I have to attend.”

_It’s a date_ ; he thought as he watched her leave the store.

* * *

Brienne was an easy girl to spot; he had figured that out as soon as he realized he looked forward to seeing her every afternoon. Her pale blond hair and her borderline freakishly height made it a piece of cake to see her even in a crowded room, but it was usually what she wore that caught Jaime’s eye. For someone as fit as her, she wore what Jaime called the granny style; loose blouses, dull slacks, the ugly shoes; even when they met at the bar she seemed to be dressed like an old lady. So on Saturday, when he spotted her blond hair and later saw her body, he was pleasantly surprised. By no means was she dressed up, she was actually wearing clothes much more casual than usual, but the skinny jeans and plain t-shirt looked good on her, they showed the few curves her body had. He smiled as he approached her, asked if she was ready to go in and what she wanted to drink, she surprised him by asking for orange soda, who knew someone as serious as Brienne Tarth would like something as childish as orange soda. 

With a bucket full of popcorn, two large drinks and some free chocolate covered peanuts that he scored with his winning smile, they entered the theater; five minutes later, the lights dimmed, and the showing began. If someone asked Jaime what the movie was about, he wouldn’t have been able to tell, ten minutes into the story he got distracted by the beautiful locations, the architecture and the way each take was paned and shot. He loved the mixture of Dornish religions and how it showed in the arches of the buildings, the way the water seemed to be included in every part of the city, how the actors were dressed and what each thing represented. The art major in him enjoyed every second of the almost two-hour film, and when the lights were turned back on, and Brienne turned to look at him, he felt more relaxed that he had felt in years. 

“What was your favorite part?”, Brienne asked as they walked out of the theater, the sun already going down and the sky tainted orange.

“Honestly?”, he asked, usually when someone asked for his opinion on a film they expected a macho response, a brainless commentary on the explosions or the action or the hot leading lady, “The architecture.” 

“The architecture?”, Brienne asked obviously surprised. 

“I have a minor in art… so yeah, the architecture.”

“Interesting, would you care to elaborate?”

For once Jaime didn’t sense any judgment or mockery after his confession of loving art, men like him were not supposed to love art, he had learned, at least not in the way he did. That was about the same time he had accepted that there were no men like him.

“I’ll elaborate over dinner.”

Brienne made a fuss about having dinner with him, said that she had perfectly good food at home that would go bad, that she hadn’t planned on dinner and had to work. Never one to give up, Jaime started negotiations, okay, maybe not dinner but how about a quick bite, something to hold them together until they could eat properly. They walked past the front of another Roaring Coffee but ignored it, instead, they went to a little bakery Brienne had discovered in her daily runs. A shared bite came short, as Jaime discussed architecture and little by little Brienne ventured to share about her times living across the Narrow Sea researching for her book and the few adventures and misadventures she had found there. When they ran out of coffee and cake, Jaime asked again if she still didn’t want to have dinner, she surprised him once more by saying no to dinner but maybe yes to a sandwich. So they moved their conversation to a street vendor, ordered a couple of sandwiches and two bottles of water and sat down in a little park not far from the theatre.

When Jaime got to the coffee shop on Monday, he was greeted with a smile. He had his bag with him, had a ton of things to work on actually, but Brienne asked about his weekend, and then the conversation started flowing, so he figured that he could always stay a little later at the office. On Tuesday it was him who interrupted her work; he did it just for the sake of knowing if he could. On Wednesday she wasn’t there, but with her book being released on Friday he figured she might be busy, he had marked it on his calendar way before meeting her and had received an email that morning reminding him that his book would be shipped soon. 

Just as he had suspected, on Thursday the coffee shop was a bit busier than usual but with no wench. He asked Pod for his coffee, went to his table and sat down; he was about to reach into his bag for some reports when he saw her coming. His eyes followed her form as she approached the store, walked in and waved to Pod before walking straight to him, his stomach did a little flip though he didn’t know why.

“Hey,” she said a little out of breath as she stood before him, clearly with no intention to sit down.

“Hey,” he offered gently, trying to get her to calm down.

“I can’t stay but… well, I… I wanted to give you this”, she said as she reached into her bag and pulling out a thick book.

Oathkeeper: Far out of Reach, the shiny cover said in big bold letters. Taking the book in his hands, Jaime fought the urge to flip the pages and inhale that new book smell. What he couldn’t help was the big, goofy smile that formed on his face. He had made an effort to never discuss her books or writing with her, no matter how badly he wanted, especially when he saw her pounding the keyboard with ideas and words and phrases; when he saw the little smile form on her lips. To have Brienne, the woman who he was sure had hated his guts not five months ago, gift him an advanced copy of her book was, well, monumental. 

“Brienne…”, her name left his lips in a sorry choke. 

_Get it together, Lannister, it’s just a book_ , he thought, _just a book you’ve been waiting over a year to read, and that doesn’t officially come out until tomorrow_.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I… I hope you like it. I’ve got to go now. Bye”, she said and dashed through the door, leaving him shocked and happy and confused and with all sorts of feelings going on.

On Friday morning, when he opened the door before going to work, he found a brown parcel waiting on the doorstep. He picked it up already knowing what it was and smiled, throwing the parcel on the passenger's seat, Jaime knew exactly what he would do with his second copy.

 


	6. Oathkeeper: Far out of Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Word on the street is that you’re dating Jaime Lannister,” Sansa Stark said very matter-of-factly as she walked in full speed next to Brienne, a cup of coffee in her hand and a binder under her arm. Brienne stopped dead in her tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I was going to post this on Sunday... but I figured I could upload a day earlier, I hope you enjoy it.

When received a few final copies from Stark Publishing a few days before, she had gone on and done as she usually did. She kept one copy for herself, mailed one to her father and then another one to Goodwin, one of her childhood mentors. She looked down at the two extra copies she had left; usually, she just stashed them away or waited a few years before donating a first edition signed book to a thrift store or used bookstore. But out of nowhere, his name had popped into her mind. She knew he had read them before; he was probably quite into them by the amount of emotion displayed at the Hound’s Bar that one time. She had never gifted one of her books, let alone one of her own copies, to anyone, but then again, she didn’t have many friends, and the one time she had been bold enough to give one away, she had her heart broken by the response she got. She wondered if she should sign the book, it would be more valuable if she did, but what would she write? “To Jaime” would be too cold. “Love, Brienne,” no, she couldn’t write that. So she decided to leave it as it was, he could always ask for her signature like every other man, right? 

His voice rang in her ears then, reminding her smugly that there were no other men like him, only him. Brienne hated to admit that he was right, the more she got to interact with him, further than just sharing a cup of coffee and half a pastry, the more she realized that she had never met anyone like Jaime Lannister. She had never met someone as handsome as him, who could be both a jerk and a gentleman, he had cracked more than enough jokes at her expense and, still, he was always helping her with doors, offering her things and, lately, making her smile. He had a more profound sight of the world than what she had initially given him credit for; she had been pleasantly surprised to hear him talk about art and architecture and history after their movie outing. Still, she had overheard some of his conversations and knew that the same man who could analyze the arches in a building and what it meant could also carry an oh so meaningful conversation about golf clubs, girls, and cars. 

She had carried the book around for the entire week but had always chickened out at the last minute. Finally, on Thursday she gave herself a pep talk and marched down to the café. There he was, looking good as only he could and she wondered for the thousandth time how he managed to never have a wrinkle in his shirt. The look in his eyes when he had seen the book before him had been precious, there was just no other word to describe it, and she was a writer. He had been at an evident loss of words, in any different situation she wouldn’t have let that slip, she would have laughed and said something witty, but his honesty had disarmed her, and she had surrendered to him all too gladly.

All night she had been disturbed by how his stupid smile had made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She had told herself that she didn’t care about making him happy, that she didn’t care for the little sparkle in his green eyes when he smiled, that she was in no way interested in a man like him. She had lived all her life depending on only one man, had learned to trust only one man, and she was okay with having just one man. That one man was her father; she would never need anyone else than her father. She had tried her luck in love, and it had been devastating. The stupid boys in university had been as cruel as they were dumb. Her misplaced affection for Renly Baratheon, who had broken her heart twice and her not so brief relationship with Tormund. She had to admit that what she had with Tormund had been the closest thing to a good relationship she had ever experienced. He was fire, just like his hair, and he had consumed her completely, it was good for a few months until she had realized that his fire was suffocating. Maybe she had panicked, maybe she had merely opened her eyes, but when Brienne broke it off with Tormund, she felt free again. 

She was a bit ashamed to admit that he had been the inspiration for Wilde Innings, and while Cap and Wilde had never been in an established relationship, the nature of it was the closest thing to romance that Cap had ever experienced, that Brienne had ever experienced. Upon finishing that book, just before sending it to the editor, she had contacted Tormund and explained her situation. Always a sweetheart, he had said that her books were brilliant pieces of fiction based on some random events and that if there were any similarities between him and some character, he would be honored but not take it personally. Her lawyers had asked her to have him sign something, to put his good faith in writing, but she had declined because she trusted his word, and he had kept it.

She thought of having coffee with Tormund after randomly bumping into each other. It was nice, there was still a strong vibe between them, but she wasn’t interested in pursuing it. She remembered how Jaime had looked so mad, almost offended, to see Tormund at their table. Was it just because of the chair or was it something else? She didn’t know, but as she walked home after giving him the book, she realized she actually cared. She hoped, she really hoped, that he was as protective of her as he was of the table. Cursing under her breath, Brienne finally admitted that her feelings for Jaime Lannister ran a little deeper than she cared to admit initially.

“Word on the street is that you’re dating Jaime Lannister,” Sansa Stark said very matter-of-factly as she walked in full speed next to Brienne, a cup of coffee in her hand and a binder under her arm. Brienne stopped dead in her tracks.

“What?”, she asked obviously surprised in the middle of the hallway.

She had agreed to do a radio interview on release day; she had agreed to a lot of interviews lately and all because Sansa had smiled at her and showed some pretty charts and projections of the increase in sales. So there they were, bright and early on a Friday morning and about to go live on the hottest radio show in the country and Sansa Stark was doing nothing to calm down her nerves.

“Someone in our marketing department saw you two at the movies, oh and Jaime is a fan, Tyrion can confirm that. And if someone from our small, almost insignificant, marketing department could find out, anyone can find out.” Sansa explained as she grabbed Brienne by the arm and urged her to continue moving. “Look, I don’t mind, he’d be good publicity, I just threw it out there so you didn’t freeze if someone asked during an interview. Start working on an answer and do it fast, we’re on the air in ten minutes.” 

Brienne sat down to get the wires on; she knew the host of the program, a young lad named Sam. In all honesty, Brienne didn’t know how Sam had managed to score the highest ratings on air; he was a chubby fellow with a soft voice, a warm smile and a kind heart. While many other presenters aimed for the weak spot, for the scandalous news that would stir up the pot, Sam tried to stay clear of the rumors and instead listen to what the guest had to say. Maybe that was why people opened up to him, she knew for a fact that Samwell Tarly was one of the few people in the media that she did not mind talking to, the fact that he was a hardcore fan was also lovely.

Sam didn’t ask about Jaime Lannister, and that was something for which she was grateful. He asked a lot about the book and how she got into the right mindset, he even ventured to ask if the rumors were true and she was already working in the last installment of the series. After being coached by Sansa, Brienne navigated easily through the many questions, and at the final one, she made a dramatic pause and said maybe. Once they were off the air, ever so shy, Sam had asked if she minded signing a book for him, he had apparently been one of those who preordered and had it delivered on release day. Smiling, she wrote a quick dedication and signed the book, one interview down. Her second interview was for King’s Landing Today, not the most reliable newspaper but one of the most popular. She had a short and polite exchange with a junior writer who had received an advanced copy of the book, thankfully, the young girl had liked it and assured Brienne that everything would be positive on Saturday’s review.

“I’ll have someone pick you up around 5; we’ll get ready together before the party. Sleep! You look dead tired”, Sansa told her as the car stopped before her apartment, with a tired wave, Brienne exited the car and went upstairs.

Her launch parties had usually been fun events, for four out of five, she hadn’t need to dress up but then she had decided to write book five in the glamorous scenarios of the Reach, in fantastic places as Bruges and Paris, and that simply screamed for a black tie event. The party would resemble the ambiance of one event Cap and Jacobs would need to attend; she wondered if Jaime had already gotten to that part. Jaime Lannister, his name sounded a bit foreign in her mind, she tried to not think about him by his full name, she actually tried not to think about him at all lately.

* * *

They Targaryen hotel stood on the same hill as the Red Keep, it was a modern building with thirty-two stories overlooking the city, and her launch party was being held on the rooftop. Standing in a beautiful and surprisingly comfortable blue dress, wearing what was called no-makeup makeup, Brienne felt both successful and pretty. Smiling at the photographer, standing next to Sansa and Arya Stark, she felt at home. The party was already filling in, the guests arriving in elegant suits or tuxedos, it all felt surreal, and she thanked Sansa for her excellent work.

“You deserve all of this and more. Now go mingle and have a good time”, Sansa said with a bright smile.

Brienne had never been good at parties, she was not one to stand small talk or comment on the latest fashions, but tonight she felt different, she felt on top of the world. So she went on and talked to fellow authors, chatted with some editors and tried the delicious looking hors d’ouvres being passed around. An hour into the whole thing, she was feeling confident, partly because of the amount of praise she was getting and partly because the champagne kept flowing. So she decided to break her own rule and pose for a few magazines that were covering the event, just for kicks. She had just told Sansa that she would agree to have her picture taken for only a few minutes when there was a massive commotion by the door, followed by what seemed like a million flashes going off. 

Thirty seconds later Brienne saw Tyrion come through the end of the little blue carpet Sansa had set up by the main door; however, the flashes persisted. Stepping closer to the action, Brienne half expected to find some gorgeous model before the lenses, she knew that despite his height, Tyrion Lannister was quite the womanizer. She shouldn’t have been so shocked to see Jaime Lannister in formal clothes, she saw him in a suit almost every time they met, but she was. Standing in front of the photographers, a small smile on his lips, Jaime Lannister posed for the cameras a little longer before making his way out. He wasn’t wearing a suit though, and she hated it because a suit she could handle, a tuxedo, however, she apparently couldn't. 

“Wow,” Jaime said as he walked straight towards her.

A few photographers had turned their way at the loud sound of his voice, but they were apparently as shocked as she was because there was not a single flash going off. Jaime Lannister extended a hand towards her, and for some gods forsaken reason, Brienne couldn’t help but put her big hand into his. Showing that half smile she was so used to getting, Jaime twirled her around, making her skirt fan around her and she was glad she had flats on.

“You clean up nice,” she said softly when she stopped turning, and he stepped closer to her, his hand going from holding hers to the small of her back. Once he had on a winning smile, the flashes started.

“Your publicists did a fine job,” he replied and after a few more seconds, gestured to the photographers to stop. He led her away from the door and towards the bar and she let him, smelling that cologne that lingered around her when he left the café every day. “I thought you hated public appearances,” he said as they waited by the bar.

“I do. By tomorrow I’ll be torn to pieces by at least three dumb magazines”, Brienne said and tried not to sound annoyed, “They will comment on my height, my weight, my face, my nose…”

“Well, that’s the beauty of your industry, wench, you don’t have to be pretty.” Jaime said as he picked up a glass of scotch, “Who cares about looks when the story is good, and believe me, what you lack in looks, you more than make up for in smarts.”

“I somehow feel both insulted and praised at the same time,” Brienne told him with a small smile, what was it about Jaime Lannister that could make her feel at ease so quickly even when he was being a jerk. 

“Thank you; it’s a talent,” he replied with a smile. “Now let us go get our picture taken before that background of that debonair picture of the Reach. Debonair, Brienne, I had to fucking look that up in the dictionary,” he said, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

After having their picture taken by the event photographer and then another one with Jaime’s phone, they spent the most of an hour just talking and bantering. Then they went their separate ways, Brienne gravitated towards the writers and Jaime towards the other businessmen that had were invited. She learned from Sansa that Jaime was Tyrion’s plus one but his presence in the party was something positive, not being able to contain herself, Sansa had smiled and asked for the second time in the day if they were dating. Once more, Brienne said they were just friends, only that time she didn’t sound so convinced.

For the rest of the night, Brienne wasn’t able to talk to Jaime again, she spoke to Tyrion, Sansa, Arya, to Sam Tarly who had been invited and was trying to strike up a conversation with anyone who had already got their hands on her book. She even talked to Petyr Baelish, regardless of how much she despised that man, but whenever she was about to walk towards her favorite Lannister boy, she was always interrupted. He was always around though, Brienne could always manage to find him with her eyes, always near and smiling, and she knew he was doing that on purpose, the place was big enough as to get lost in the crowd if he wanted. Close to midnight, she was tired and ready to go home, she tried to find Sansa, but she was nowhere to be seen, Arya had gone home already, and Brienne wondered if maybe she should just sneak away.

She was on her way to the door when she saw Sam Tarly moving his arms effusively in the air, his hair was damp with sweat, his jacket missing and the tie around his neck lose. It was quite a contrast, to look at him and then see who he was chatting to, Brienne felt a pang of insecurity, was that what people saw when they caught sight of her and Jaime talking to each other? She shrugged the feeling off and walked towards them, Sam noticing her presence and stepping sideways as to open up the floor for her. 

“And don’t get me started on this one! Have you read some of it already?!”, Sam asked calming down a little. 

“A few chapters, yeah, I’m a bit of a slow reader,” Jaime said with a sheepish smile and Brienne could tell he was under the Tarly effect, baring his soul without even noticing.

“Oh, that’s great! Taking the time to soak in the details. My brain just gets so excited sometimes; I can’t help it! I read the books twice, you see? Once to get them into my system, the second time to appreciate the details I missed.”

“Gentlemen, have you seen Sansa?” Brienne asked with a warm smile as she interrupted the conversation, it was so strange, to see such different men interacting.

“Oh, she said something about checking something with the concierge, went down like five minutes ago,” Sam said quickly.

“I’m going home now; I’ll guess I’ll find her in the lobby. Goodnight boys, thank you for coming”, she said with a big smile.

“I’ll walk you down; I’m actually heading home too. Sam, great to meet you, give me a call sometime, and we can talk more.” Jaime said as he extended his hand and Sam looked like he couldn’t believe his luck.

_I know that feeling, Sam_ , she thought as they walked to the elevator doors.

Always a jerk and sometimes a gentleman, Jaime walked her to the elevators and accompanied her until she saw Sansa, he heard that a car would be taking Brienne home. He seemed to be waiting to walk her out but quickly noticed that the ladies had some points to smooth out before calling it a night, so he cleared his throat and took a step closer to Sansa, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek, he said goodnight. Looking at Brienne, Jaime stood forwards, and she held her breath. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered in her ear before placing the softest of kisses on her cheek and walking out of the building without looking back. Brienne was sure she stood there looking like an idiot for a least a full minute before tearing her eyes away from the door only to find a huge smile on Sansa Stark’s face. 

* * *

Brienne woke up on Saturday morning with no desire to get out of bed. If she liked doing radio interviews with Sam Tarly, she absolutely hated doing morning TV interviews with people like Ramsay Snow. The two hosts were utterly opposite, where Sam was sweet and respectful, Ramsay was bloodthirsty and hit below the belt, where Sam was honest, Ramsay gorged on the rumors, and where Sam always tried to discuss the product and not the personal life, Ramsay lived for personal details. How he was the most viewed Saturday morning show, she did not know, and why Sansa had thought it would be good for her to be on it, she would never understand.

Sitting on a chair getting her hair and makeup done, Brienne tried to take deep breaths and listen to the advice Sansa was giving; apparently, she had gone on one disastrous date with Ramsay where he had told her what things triggered the monster in him. By the time Brienne was ready to go on air, even Sansa looked like she was having second thoughts on how good her idea had been. Still, Brienne walked into the platform with her head held high; she was a writer, she would not allow him to discuss anything other than her work… and, who was she kidding, she really didn’t have much in her life to fear what rumors might say. Oh yes, suddenly, being plain Brienne was an advantage, take that mean high school girls. 

“Brienne Tarth!” Ramsay Snow said with a big smile and teeth so sharp he could cut steel; his dead blue eyes pierced through her soul and a shiver ran down her spine. “Five books in the best selling lists, your series 'Oathkeeper' is said to have brought up a new generation of readers. Your last book, Oathkeeper: Far out of Reach came out yesterday, and the web is buzzing about it!”, he read from a cue card without losing his breath.

Brienne had to admit he did have a way of getting you clinging to his every word. Still, she felt that he was too generous with his words, her defenses automatically going up, and in the corner, she could see Sansa signaling her to keep smiling.

“Thank you so much for being here. I know your launch party was last night, do you need us to dim the lights a bit?”, he asked, and the public laughed.

“Oh, no need for that. Thank you for having me here, Ramsay” she said, Sansa had told her he specifically hated being referred as Mr. Snow.

“So this book just came out, rumor has it you’re already working on the next one and, if I’m not mistaken, there are talks of a movie deal on the table?”

“Yes, the book came out yesterday, so that’s a relief. And, well, so far I’ve always gotten the idea of what I wanted to write next while I’m still working on something so, if this shapes up to be book seven, then that’ll make my publishers very happy.” Brienne said with a smile, and Ramsay nodded at her. 

“Book reviews are off the charts; people are calling it one of the best ones yet… it will sure be hard to follow”, he said with a fake smile, “Now, speaking of following, you’re not on social media, are you, _Miss_ Tarth?”

Brienne forced a smile on her face; she knew things were going too well actually to stay in that path and judging by the emphasis on the word 'miss,' she knew Ramsay Snow was just getting started. Standing by Sansa Stark, she could see the figure of a bald man, _Varys_ ; she thought, the master of whispers who was apparently the one who got all the juicy scoops for Ramsay.

“I’m not, it’s just not my scene I guess. But I’ve been thinking about opening an account, the one for the pictures.”

Brienne was happy with her answer, and judging by Sansa’s thumbs up, she was too. It had been one of the practice questions Brienne had been prepped for, and in reality, she had been considering opening an account, she had so many pictures from her trips that wanted to share, no one said she had to be on them, right?

“Speaking of pictures!”, Ramsay said, and his smile grew, Brienne’s blood froze, “What can you tell me about this one?”

Ramsay reached to the table between their chairs and picked up a big printed photo of her and Jaime on the launch party. Had she been alone, she would have smiled at the sight of it, they both looked good in the picture, maybe that was why this bastard was airing it. 

“That’s Jaime Lannister, he came to the launch party last night,” Brienne said trying to sound plain.

“Jaime Lannister, CFO of Lannister Enterprises, at a book party? Something doesn’t add up there, right?”, he asked the public and the audience started whistling at the way Ramsay wiggled his eyebrows. “Would you say you and one Mr. Jaime Lannister, who happens to be single at the time, are friends?”

She didn’t like the tone Ramsay was using; she didn’t like the way he was figuratively cornering her against the ropes. Yes, she and Jaime Lannister were friends, she had already made the stupid mistake of denying it once, and he had been hurt, if he happened to be watching and she denied it on national television, it would be a disaster.

“We are, he likes the books, his brother does too.”

“Oh we know, the Lannister boys haven’t made their love for your characters any secret,” he said and pulled another frame from the table. 

This time the cardboard showed three pictures. The first one of them, the bigger one on the top, showed a younger looking Jaime and Tyrion standing in line at a bookstore, the date printed matched the release day of the third book. On the bottom left box, was a pixelated picture of Jaime at the beach reading what appeared to be the fourth book, clearly a paparazzi shot. The remaining spot showed the Lannister brothers wearing matching merch t-shirts surrounded by kids in the hospital. She was taken back; she knew the boys liked the books, she didn’t know they were such fans. Stealing a glance at Sansa, Brienne placed a smile back on her face and turned to Ramsay. 

“Well look at that, could you get me the name of the hospital they visited?” Brienne asked smugly.

_Gods, I’ve been spending too much time with Jaime,_ she thought, as her smirk grew wider when Ramsay Snow stuttered on national television.

“Of course, yes. Of course”, Ramsay said as he shifted his cue cards around and turned to look at the camera. “Oathkeeper: Far out of Reach is available in stores and online now, everybody in the audience is getting a copy. We are here with Brienne Tarth, who will be telling us more about the interesting adventures of Cap and Special Agent Jacobs, we’ll be right back!” 

The rest of the interview went smoother, no awkward moments except for the usual innuendos and dumb jokes every male interviewer had for her. Yes, Cap was partly based on her. No, Special Agent Jacobs was not based on any boyfriend; he was slightly based on her father’s attitude and some stories she had heard as a child. No, she would not answer to any questions about her personal life. Yes, it was a complete honor to work with Catelyn Stark, and now it was just as good to be working with Sansa Stark. No, cue fake laughter, she would not give out Sansa’s number. Once her segment was over, she shook hands with Ramsay and quickly left the set, Sansa congratulated her on the amazing job and asked if she wanted to have brunch together, surprisingly, Brienne declined, saying she was tired and just wanted to go home.

When the driver took a turn, and she saw for the first time the Lannister building, Brienne asked him to please take to Fishmonger’s Square. Once the car was out of sight, she walked some streets back to Roaring Coffee, she smiled a genuine smile for the first time in the day at the sight of Pod sitting behind the register, his nose buried in yet again another book. She made a promise to herself to ask the boy what he studied; he was sure to be good at it from all the revising she saw him doing.

“Morning Pod,” she called when the boy failed to greet her.

The shop was almost empty, something strange for a Saturday, but she appreciated the peace and quiet. Usually, for a few weeks after one of the books was released, she’d be recognized in a few places, the hype would die down later, and she would go back to being a virtual nobody, but she didn’t want to risk popularizing her little haven.

“Oh, Ms. Tarth, sorry. I was just...” he said closing the book and showing her the cover. Brienne couldn’t help but smile wider. “It’s so good! I’m almost halfway through it.”

“Thanks, Pod,” she said and saw the unasked question in his eyes, the same she got from teens who went to her signings, “Pod, can _I_ help you with something?" 

“Well,” he said shyly as he distractedly flipped the pages of the book, “Would you mind signing it? I’ve been reading them since they first came out! It would be… it’d be an honor to have a signed book, make this one twice special.”

“Twice special?” she asked still smiling as she took the book and a marker from the boy and started scribbling something.

“Yes, Mr. Lannister said his order got duplicated and gave me this one on Friday! I usually have to wait until the paperback version comes out”, Pod said with a big smile. 

Brienne’s own smile trembled, and she was glad she had already finished singing her name when the boy spoke, otherwise, she would have ruined his so special book with a wobbly line on the cover.

_Jaime Lannister_ , her thoughts went back to what Ramsay had said about Jaime and Tyrion being fans, to the picture of them waiting in line at a bookstore, _he probably pre-ordered it_ , she figured and then smiled again. _There really are no men like him, only him._

 


	7. Rainy Days in King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth, it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? She’s not your usual type, though.”
> 
> “Leggy blonde isn’t my type?” Jaime asked and regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so amazing, when I first started writing this it was outlined as a four chapter thing and then it slowly turned into something larger. 
> 
> I can't thank you enough for the comments and kudos and love you show to this story, so I wanted to do something nice to show how truly grateful I am, and I figured posting another chapter might be the best way to do it. 
> 
> Once more, thank you all so much for reading.

“You were on TV this morning,” Cersei said with a venomous smile as she brought a glass of wine to her lips. 

If there was something more awkward than lunch meetings with Cersei and Tywin, it was the mandatory weekly dinner with Cersei, Tywin, and Tyrion. He didn’t know why it was harder, maybe because it was at their family home, the one that never saw smiles or heard laughter because they moved in after their mother died, maybe it was because they didn’t have to behave as they did when they were in public. By all means, having Tyrion around should have helped diffuse the tension, but his stupid little brother loved annoying Cersei, and that always managed to make things more uncomfortable for everyone.

“Really? Were they talking about our latest merge?”, Jaime asked as he buttered a piece of bread, that was how anxious his family made him, it made him turn to carbs.

“Some hideous looking creature was making you look like a nerd,” Cersei said clearly enjoying herself, “There was something about a book, and a party, and that thing you call our brother too.”

Before Tyrion could say anything, Tywin Lannister raised a hand and everyone grew silent. For a second, Jaime wondered if there would ever be a time in which the three of them stopped being children in front of their father.

“You went to a book launch?” Tywin asked directly at Jaime, as usual completely ignoring Tyrion, “Had your picture taken with poets and authors and the kind?”

Jaime fell silent for a minute, his father’s eyes had always been impossible to read. However, there had been pictures and, apparently, those were already public. For a second he was curious as to how the photographs had turned out, the one he had on his phone was easily one of his favorite pictures ever. 

“Yes. Brienne Tarth’s book launch.”

“Excellent”, Tywin said much to his and Cersei’s surprise, only he felt relieved while Cersei looked distraught, “It’s good for you to be seen in different environments, it’s good for the company to be associated with the arts.” 

Jaime wanted to lash out; he wanted to let go of all the repressed anger he still felt towards his father for blackmailing him into getting only a minor in arts. But he didn’t, he might be a grown man, but he knew all too well that he’d always be a child before Tywin. Instead, he agreed that the arts were relevant, that maybe they should even consider investing in some companies in that field. Tywin looked at him uninterested, the time for art conversation already gone in his opinion, and asked Jaime to run the numbers. That was all he ever told Jaime, to run the numbers. 

“You two looked quite cozy last night,” Tyrion said as they crossed the garage after dinner. Jaime immediately knew who Tyron was referring. “Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth, it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? She’s not your usual type, though.”

“Leggy blonde isn’t my type?” Jaime asked and regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Oh brother,” Tyrion said as he stopped dead in his tracks, ”Oh brother, come on now, I have a bottle of Valyrian scotch waiting for us back home.” 

Tyrion’s apartment was the complete opposite of his. Where Jaime liked clean counters and marble, Tyrion liked wood and overflowing bookshelves and tables, Jaime liked to eat healthily, and his fridge was the most colorful thing in his apartment, Tyrion ate mostly takeout and his bookshelf was the most colorful thing in his apartment. However, the two brothers had one thing in common: alcohol. It had been something like the fundament for their relationship, same taste in alcohol, different taste in women; so far, it had all worked out flawlessly.

There was something about Tyrion’s apartment that made Jaime feel both at home and also like an idiot. Maybe it was the dim lights and the pictures of them growing up that were around the house; maybe it was the huge picture of their mother that he had in the foyer or the fact that his little brother always mumbled hello to it when they stepped in. Maybe it was because Tyrion had created a safe environment when the only reason to be judged was that you drank a 50 golden dragon glass of scotch too fast, but Jaime always felt right at home in that little apartment in Rhaenys Hill district. However, the same apartment that made him feel right at home also made him feel like the most stupid plant on the planet. Tyrion had a humongous amount of books, and the titles varied from law to biology, physics, classic literature; any book one could think of could be easily found in his little brother’s apartment. Jaime had done the math one, considering the number of hours in a day, the age Tyrion started reading and the number of books the small man owned, it was mathematically impossible for Tyrion to have read them on. Yet, each time Jaime had something to say about, for example, the theory of civilization by submission prompted by the Dothraki conquests in the age of Aegon the Conqueror, his little brother had something clever to say. 

Forgetting about the books and focusing instead on the graciously stocked bar, in the center of the oak cabinet, a single bottle of Old Valyrian Scotch stood out because of its shape and color. That was the good stuff, the thing Tyrion broke out to celebrate special occasions, the last time he had a glass of that was a few weeks ago, and his mouth was already watering at the prospect of the rich flavor he’d be tasting. Tyrion brought out two glasses and placed them on a table, climbing the few steps before the cabinet, he did the honors and poured the amber liquid.

There were two things Tywin Lannister had taught his boys and that they would genuinely be thankful for the rest of their lives. The first was to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, the second one was how to drink scotch neat. Yes, the Lannister boys turned into Lannister men the day they stopped adding ice to their drinks, which had actually been the one time they had seen something resembling pride and love on Tywin’s face. 

“So you didn’t drop the issue with the table,” Tyrion said a few minutes after they had taken the first sip.

Of course it wasn’t just a table, okay, maybe in the beginning, it had been, but not anymore. It wasn’t just a table, and Brienne wasn’t just some author he happened to sit next to. She probably had never been if he was honest with himself, Brienne Tarth had managed to stir feelings in him from the second he laid eyes on her, only that those feelings had been so diverse and now they were also the cause for his drinking. She had barged into his life, stolen his table and made his mind work for witty comebacks like he hadn’t need to in years. Brienne, with her boring clothes and the million freckles in her face, had managed to distract him enough that each time he had his afternoon coffee, he didn’t just enjoy the drink but also the company of another human being. She, who had blue eyes to die for, so beautiful they seemed slightly out of place when taking in the rest of her face. 

 _Leggy blondes_ , Jaime thought as he swirled the amber liquid in his short glass. That was usually his type, leggy blondes with white sparkling smiles, women who looked good on his arm and attracted looks when they walked into restaurants. Leggy blondes who liked him for his looks and last name, who didn’t bother to get to know him better, whose preferred topic of conversation was fashion and who was dating who. Girls with whom he’d never held a real conversation, who didn’t care for art if it wasn’t on sale and expensive, who didn’t understand why he used a calculator instead of his computer, who liked him better with his shirt off. He felt stupid, ungrateful even, to be complaining about having beautiful women interested in casual relationships with him, but while it had been quite appealing in his younger years, the whole ordeal had lost its appeal as he neared the second half of his thirties. 

Relationships were not a strong suit for Lannisters, at least not lasting ones. The one example of love he had seen was between his mother and father, and all the love his father had ever had in him had seemed to die the day his mother passed away. Cersei was in a very unhappy marriage; it was to be expected really since she had married a drunken fool just for the power and money. As for Tyrion, his brother had an endless parade of women walking in and out of his apartment but Jaime knew he had only loved one woman and their father had made sure to disappear her from his life. As for Jaime, ever since he hit thirty, he had dialed down the playboy thing, much to his father’s delight and his own solace. He was married to his job, that was what he said in all the interviews when the relationship questions came, he believed it firmly, he believed it so much that he had convinced himself that he didn’t need to find love. That was until the day his table was taken from him. 

Fucking Brienne fucking Tarth had reminded him how nice it was to have conversations with other human beings. She had not been impressed by him, hadn’t even known who he was, and it was just so refreshing, it was like discovering Roaring Coffee all over again, like the feel of fresh air after being trapped in the office for too long. He had realized he cared about her when she missed those days and later found out she had been sick. He had accepted that he wanted a friendship with her when he had seen the ginger giant sitting on his chair. He had embraced the idea of their friendship after going to the movies, and that same day, after dinner, he had considered for the first time the notion of maybe wanting something more than just a friendship. When she presented him with her book, her unsigned book for that matter, he had known that he was dangerously close to feeling something for her, what exactly he didn’t know yet. But the final nail in the coffin had been that blue dress, why did everything about Brienne Tarth had to be blue?

It wasn’t just the dress; it wasn’t the makeup or the fact that she looked pretty, it was the fact that she was radiant, smiling and carefree and seemed glad to see him what finally did it for him. From the moment he touched her hand, realizing that her skin was softer than he had imagined, that her hand fit perfectly in his, he had been a goner. He had twirled her around and herd that soft laughter, she looked like elegance to him and he scolded himself for the romantic thoughts, Tyrion was supposed to be the romantic one. Still, he had lingered around her like the moon around the earth, shamelessly staying close enough always to be able to steal a glance at her. He had called her beautiful before walking away, he never called any woman beautiful, he called them hot or pretty or ‘something else,’ yet, he had called her, of all people, beautiful.

“And so, the lion is reduced to a pussycat,” Tyrion’s faux-poetic intonation brought a smile to Jaime’s lips.

He had fought and lost the battle, and if he was honest, he wasn’t even mad that he had lost. Brienne would be a challenge, she wasn’t like any girl, any woman, he had ever met, and that was exactly what made her special. 

“Do you think I’m in over my head?”, he asked Tyrion, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to sit up straighter. 

“In your quest to conquer an intelligent and independent young woman who might be out of your league? I think it’s going to be quite fun to watch; she’ll make you work for it, that’s for sure. But I don’t think you’re in over your head. You’re Jaime Lannister, aren’t you?”

* * *

Summer was saying goodbye in the most annoying way possible, with random showers that soaked up a city that had failed to adapt its buildings and streets for it. The rain usually lasted about fifteen minutes, but lately, it was on and off whenever the wind blew in the wrong direction. Not wanting to risk being caught in the rain, he had driven to Roaring for his afternoon coffee, he was surprised not to find Brienne but figured she still had book promo things to do or maybe didn’t own a car, he had never stopped to wonder about that. Still, it was a bit of a relief, he wasn’t ready to face her after coming to terms with his feelings towards her, he also wanted to continue reading the new Oathkeeper book, and he wasn’t about to do that in front of her. Jaime smiled when he saw Pod reading, the lad was way ahead of him though, but Jaime decided not to let it disturb him, just like Sam Tarly had said, it might be a good thing to be a slow reader, it gave him the chance to take in the details. For an hour, he read as the streets dried up, and when his phone went off, he closed the book and walked back to his car, it was time to go back to work.

As he left the office that day, unusually early for him but still late for everyone else, Jaime turned right instead of left when he hit Eel Alley Way. As he made slow progress through the streets, he registered what he was doing, with a half smile and a huff, he continued driving for three minutes, circled the block and then parked in the same spot he had left his car earlier that afternoon. The sound of a few drops hitting the windshield came when he turned off the engine, leaning over the passenger seat, Jaime tried to look into the store but didn’t see her. Still, something urged him to step out of the car, and standing next to his open door, with drops falling on his jacket, he finally saw a tall body gathering her belongings. Rushing to the door, Jaime popped into the store without even noticing who was behind the counter.

“Hey,” he called from the doorway, and Brienne’s blue eyes found him, “It’s starting to rain, I’ll give you a ride." 

If she was going to usher a protest, and he was sure she was about to, the roaring of thunder destroyed whatever argument she had. Instead, Brienne threw her things into an oversized purse, left her ceramic mug on the counter and tried to make herself as small as possible as Jaime ushered her through the rain and into the car. Quietly, she told him to take the street towards the Fishmonger Square and that she’d guide him to her place from there. It was a short drive, but the rain made him drive slower, and traffic was heavy. Jaime tried to concentrate on driving and not on how uncomfortable things seemed to be getting in the car; he turned and smiled at her once only to get no response. Trying to dissipate the tension, he turned on the radio and let whatever was on air fill their silence.

Ten minutes later he pulled over in front of a small five-story building, it was older just like that side of town but well kept, the contrast of how much King’s Landing could chance from one district to another had always fascinated him, but that was not the time to comment on it. He smiled again despite himself when Brienne remained seated as he killed the engine, outside, the rain was coming down harder and didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.

“I’m halfway through the book,” he said trying to fill the space between them before things got too awkward, “That’s quite an achievement for me, reading so fast.”

“Good,” Brienne said and sounded a little awkward, she seemed not to be one to take praise easily, “I’m glad.”

“My sister told me you were on Ramsay Snow’s show on Saturday,” he added, and he saw Brienne growing stiff, “I looked up the interview. I’m really glad you didn’t deny our friendship on national television”, he added with a chuckle, and she relaxed.

“And risk offending you? I could never”, Brienne said and turned to smile at him. 

He didn’t know if it was the rhythmic sound of raindrops against the windshield or the way Brienne’s eyes shone under the street lamp, maybe it was the thought of her on that blue dress or the fact that he was falling and had no intention of doing anything to stop it. Maybe it simply was that he was an idiot and loved to ruin everything good in his life. But one second he was smiling and the next he was leaning over the gear lever, his left hand cupping her cheek as he pulled her towards him soft and slow.

If he had ever dared to imagine kissing Brienne Tarth, it was nothing like the reality of doing so. Her lips were soft and chapped, and she tasted like coffee, but she stayed still, receiving his kiss but not responding to it. Thinking she might need some encouragement, he pressed his lips slightly harder against hers, brushed his tongue softly over her lower lip, but nothing happened. His mind went back to functioning then, alarms going off everywhere, and just as he was about to pull away, he felt the softest movement under his lips and opened his eyes to see that hers were closed. When he tried to lean into it, she broke away, her eyes shooting open and her back against the door. She looked scared, like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, her blue eyes were big, and she was awfully silent. He needed to say something, that much he knew, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to apologize because he didn’t regret anything of what had happened, well, maybe he did regret that she didn’t kiss back, but at least now he knew that she wasn’t interested. They could move past that, right? They sure could carry on with their friendship after he had taken the liberty to steal a kiss, he wanted to be more than friends but he was willing to settle for a friendship, he was willing to settle for anything that kept her in his life. 

“I should go”, Brienne said as she fumbled with the car door, “thanks for the ride,” she added before slamming the door

“Brienne, wait.”

The rain soaked him in a matter of seconds. Jaime figured it drowned his voice, he hoped that his words were carried away by the wind because the other option was that she had heard him and kept walking anyway. Brienne didn’t stop; instead, she went through the door, and this time it was her who didn’t look back.

“Shit,” Jaime said as he entered his apartment, the entire drive home he had gone through different feelings after trying to find where things had gone wrong, “Shit!”, he all but yelled as he finally gave up and decided he’d never know where he went wrong.

In his mind, there had only been two possible outcomes for a kiss. The first and preferable one was that the recipient of the kiss felt flattered and kissed back, the second was that the recipient of the kiss felt disgusted and pushed you away, a slap could follow that reaction. He had been in both situations; he had girls kiss him back and once or twice he got slapped or rejected. Stunned silence after the ghost of being kissed back, though, was something he had never experienced. Angry and confused, Jaime grabbed a bottle of water, went to his home office and turned on his computer, math was reliable, he would keep his mind off thing with math.

He was nervous when he entered Roaring on Tuesday; he had walked all the way there rehearsing the speech he had come up with earlier in the morning. It was simple; first, he would apologize, then he would tell her that he was attracted to her which was what led him to kiss her in the first place; finally, he would ask her if she wanted to go on a date. If she said no, then he would apologize once more and tell her that he still wanted to be friends, that they were both adults and could surely move past the little incident. However, when he entered the store, his table was empty. He turned and saw Mya restocking the pastries, letting a sigh out, he walked over her to order his coffee, thinking that maybe it was just a coincidence that Brienne wasn’t there, she certainly wasn’t avoiding him, right?

 _She’s avoiding you, you idiot_ , Jaime thought on Friday as he put his mug down with a little too much force and the hot liquid splattered.

When she wasn’t there on Tuesday, his mind made up some excuse; maybe she was still busy with work or promo or whatever. When she wasn’t there on Wednesday, he allowed himself to worry a little. On Thursday he had told himself that maybe she was sick, on Friday he finally came to terms with the idea that he had messed up badly. 

 _She’s overreacting_ , he thought bitterly.

Brienne Tarth had been on his mind every single day for the past week. He had thought of her on Monday, and later every single day after that kiss. Sometimes they were good thoughts, the softness of her lips, the way she smelled like coffee and cinnamon; some others, he concentrated on the fact that she probably hated his guts.

_It doesn't add up, though, her behavior doesn't make any sense._

He had flirted with her for weeks, first unknowingly and then on purpose; they both had a nice time in each other’s company during her launch party, she had kissed him back. He just knew she had kissed him back, so why on earth was she hiding? 

As a child, Jaime had always been restless, as a result, after his mother’s death, Tywin had taken him to a maester and demanded they found what was wrong with him. Yes, what was wrong, not if something was wrong. Anyway, the maesters had done a battery of questions on him, observed his behavior, asked him to sit still for hours, and by the end of the day, he was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder. For most of his childhood he had to take a little pill in the morning to be able to concentrate in school, even so, there were still times in which he couldn’t stay put. During his school years he had lousy grades but did magnificently in sports, then, during university, he had stopped taking the pills and managed to balance his life on his own. He had convinced himself that he didn’t have ADD; he was simply energetic. That day, however, as he suddenly stood up and completely forgot about the cup of coffee he had just placed on the table, he wondered if maybe he did have a slight problem. 

He went back to the office, picked up his bag, laptop, keys and phone and left. His secretary simply saw him walk away, she was paid to stay until five, not meddle in his personal business, and that was the one thing in the job she did properly. Throwing his stuff in the back seat of the car, Jaime left the garage driving faster than he should, he needed to act before reason caught up with him, but he also couldn’t deny he loved the dramatic effect. 

 _Of course it had to be fucking raining_ , Jaime thought as he raced through the streets.

Stepping out of the car, not minding that he was getting soaked, Jaime looked at the five-story building before him. Judging by the number of windows and buzzers, there were about three apartments per floor. He scanned the list of names on the intercom, but most of them were either blank or intelligible. Letting a sigh out, he tried the door and it gave, he had fifteen doors to knock on, and one person to find.

It was after the eight door that Jaime figured that maybe, just maybe, Brienne wasn’t home; still, he was on a mission, and he would not stop until he had knocked on every door of the building. When he reached door number fifteen and an old lady told him she could be Brienne if he wanted, Jaime felt defeated. Smiling softly at the woman, he started climbing down the stairs; it was destiny, he figured, that he wouldn’t be able to find her that day. He was so distracted wallowing in his misery that he almost missed the tall figure standing by one of the doors on the second floor. Quickly looking up, Jaime rushed through the last few steps before calling out her name, when Brienne turned, she looked as surprised as he felt.

“Jaime?”, she asked as she shook her umbrella nervously, ”What… what are you doing here?” 

What was he doing there? Honestly, he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

When he had left the office in a hurry and started knocking on the doors, he figured he’d just know what to say when he saw her, but that wasn’t working out too well. Standing in his wet clothes, feeling like an idiot, Jaime opened and clothed his mouth as he tried to put his thoughts in order. He could apologize, he could use the speech he had prepared for Tuesday, but it didn’t feel right. Taking a deep breath in, he stepped took a step closer to her. 

“Hi,” he blurted.

 _You’re one smooth bastard_ , he told himself as he ran a hand over his face.

“You ran out on me on Monday, and I don’t have your phone number, and I haven’t seen you since. Look, if you aren’t interested in me in that way, it’s okay I can deal with that. But, even if you don’t want to go on a date with me, I want us to be friends. And I wanted to tell you that, but, again, I don’t have your number, and the buzzers don’t have names, and I just knocked on fifteen doors trying to find you.”

He looked at Brienne, stared at her really, and when she didn’t say anything he simply went back towards the stairs. This time, it was her who asked him to stop, and unlike her, he gladly turned around to face her. 

“We should talk,” she said as she finally pushed the door open, “Would you like some tea?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at that, we've reached the halfway point!


	8. The Venn Diagram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not like any woman you’ve ever dated.”
> 
> “No, you’re not"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, sorry for the late update.

72 hours ago, the Venn Diagram of the men who had called her beautiful and the men who had kissed her had been two parallel circles, and she was okay with that. Men had never been kind to her, at least not those who were not fictional. And then Jaime Lannister had come into her life and not only had he enlarged the relatively small circle that represented the men who had kissed her lips. Not only had he expanded the circle of men who had ever called her beautiful by 100%, but he had gone ahead and created an intersection between the two; the nerve of the man.

So many things had happened that she didn’t know how to feel, she didn’t know how to act, and so Brienne did the only logical thing she could think of: she had bolted out the car, ignored his cry to stop and rushed through the door.

48 hours ago, her life seemed so much simpler, emptier too, but somehow that didn’t make things easier to understand. Taking a deep breath, Brienne walked to the bathroom and jumped into the shower; she’d think how everything had gone to hell once she was warmer, drier and had a comfortable pair of pajamas on. Once set on the couch, feet propped up against the coffee table and a cup of mint tea forgotten by the kettle, Brienne allowed herself to stop and actually think about everything that had happened since Friday night.

She had felt pretty on Friday night, and that feeling had made her let go of some of her inhibitions. She talked and smiled and stood with so many people at the party but her eyes had always been drawn to him, and his smile had warmed her up faster than any type of alcohol available. At the party, things hadn’t been much different from a good day at the café, but then he had walked her down to the lobby, and things started turning. He had ushered three words and rendered her speechless, with three stupid words he had torn down her defenses, destroyed any argument she had composed as to why she shouldn’t give into any sort of feelings towards him. Three words and she had stopped being the independent twenty-six-year-old woman who traveled the world and wrote about adventures, instead, she was the eighteen-year-old girl who was too tall, too pale, too skinny, who had a septa who destroyed her self-esteem and was the easiest target for bullies.

_Gods, it’s not like he said he loved you_ , Brienne thought and let an unladylike grunt out.

She knew that if she shared her thought with someone, anyone, they would say she was overreacting. But it was different for her, girls like Sansa Stark or Margaery Tyrell, grew up hearing boy telling them they were beautiful, the only man who had ever called her such was her father, gods bless his heart. So no, she wasn’t overreacting, if anything she was underreacting because girls like Brienne didn’t get called beautiful, girls like Brienne didn’t get called beautiful by men like Jaime Lannister. He had meant it too, she knew it. He had meant it because it was the softest whisper in her ear; because he had touched the small of her back and twirled her around and he had smiled with his lips and his eyes all night at her. She knew he meant it because his words sounded nothing like the prettier words, smarter words, Jaime exchanged with Mya.

Tormund had never called her beautiful, and in all honesty, she had never expected him to. Things with Tormund had started almost by accident, Jon Snow introduced them, she said hi, he said hello and then he never stopped talking. He had called and texted and asked her out, in one week he gave her all the attention no man had given her in twenty years and being young and naive she had confused the feeling of being needed, of being wanted, with love. They got into a relationship by default, sometime between the dates, the kissing and the talking they simply assumed that they were together and just embraced it. When he asked her to go on vacation North of the Wall with him, she said yes; and when she told him she’d be traveling a little for her book and was looking for ski locations, he had told her he’d come along. Tormund had been so good to her, so very good. But if she thought about it, in the almost twelve months they were together, he never once called her beautiful. To Tormund she was amazing, impressing, a big woman, a feast for the eyes, she was hot or cute or kind, but she was never beautiful.

Tormund had never kissed her as Jaime Lannister had. No man had ever kissed her as Jaime Lannister had. Jaime Lannister was soft lips and tender hands. He was a fancy cologne that lingered perfectly on his skin after a long day at work, he was a firm yet gentle tongue brushing against her lower lip, he was a black hole, and she was a falling star, being pulled into its gravity until it disappeared. Her mind had shut down; her brain collapsed into the overdrive of senses, she could see his face, hear his breathing, she could touch him, smell him, taste him. When he started pulling away, her body acted without her consent, she closed her eyes and brushed her lips against his, if she could only kiss Jaime Lannister once in her life, she wanted to make sure she had kissed him as much as he had kissed her. 

She had wanted to deepen the kiss, but of course, she had just come to that realization sitting all alone on the couch after darting away from him. She had wanted to deepen the kiss, but her thoughts had decided to make a guest appearance.

_He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you, why would he? Have you looked at him? Have you looked at you?_

_It’s a pity kiss, a thank you kiss for the book. It's his way of getting more things from you; he could be kissing another woman right now, you think you’re special?_

She had dashed out to get away from her thoughts, and in the process, she had also gotten away from him. She didn’t even have his phone number; she wanted to ask him why he wanted her to wait, what he had to say, what that kiss meant. But she didn’t have his phone number, and she was not going to ask Sansa for it, or Tyrion, they would ask questions, and she was not a good liar.

That night she dreamed of Jaime’s lips and eyes, of the dimpled smile on his face, of always pressed white shirts and tailored suits. When she woke up, well rested despite the intensity of her dreams, she let an audible grunt out as she remembered the several commitments she had for the day. Still, between rushing from one meeting to another, she stopped by the café in hopes that he had decided to have his coffee a little earlier. He didn’t; he wasn’t there yet on Tuesday, he wasn’t there late on Wednesday when she dropped by after a reading, he wasn’t there on Thursday, even when she managed to accommodate her schedule to wait for him for five minutes before rushing somewhere else.

On Friday she didn’t even try; it was pouring rain outside, it was her only day off, and she was tired. So she slept in, worked a bit on a chapter she was pathetically stuck on and after admitting that she was getting no writing done that day, picked up her umbrella and went to the deli around the corner for a quick bite. When she heard her name, she was sure she imagined his voice and then she had turned around, and he had been there, dripping on the landing, clothes stuck to his body, hair darker because of the rain. She saw his lips moving, he was saying something, but she felt underwater, then he was leaving, and she was the one asking him to stay, and he agreed.

Having Jaime Lannister in her apartment made the already small space look even tinier. She was a big girl, she took some room, but having another person, someone that was almost as tall and thick as her, just made things look ridiculous. She tried not to think about it and ushered him to the modest living room before heading to the kitchen to make some tea, as she was filling the kettle, he asked to please use the bathroom and disappeared through a wooden door. If she had tried to not think about him taking space, she definitely didn’t want to think about him in her bathroom. She was a clean person, she didn’t leave underwear laying around or bras hanging behind the door, but she couldn’t help but think of him looking at the few products she used, finding her box of tampons under the sink, noticing the rose razors on the tub. The whistle of the kettle brought her back to reality and she took out the tea set she had bought while visiting Dorne for the first time, placing the cups, saucers, teapot, sugar and a small assortment of teas, she went to the living room and waited for him.

“Would you mind if I take off my shoes?” – Jaime Lannister asked and, for the first time since she met him, looked a bit embarrassed – “They don’t handle rain well, and I think I stepped into a puddle.”

She told him to make himself at home, and he undid his laces, kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks, she pointed to the heather, and he placed his shoes and socks near to have them dry. She considered asking if he wanted a t-shirt, one of hers would most definitely fit him, but sharing clothes had always seemed like something very intimate to her.

_Intimate as kissing_ , her coincidence asked, _Or maybe intimate as dancing? Intimate as whispering into your ear, intimate as sharing tea on a rainy day?_

“Brienne?” Jaime’s voice broke her trance, and she looked at him, really looked at him, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Hi”, she said.

_Smooth, really smooth_ , her mind reprimanded. 

She offered Jaime tea, and he picked English Breakfast, of course, he was more traditional than he would admit. She picked a mix berries blend and waited for the tea to infuse. They made small talk, he talked about the weather in King’s Landing, and she talked about the weather in Tarth. He asked if she had been sick again and she told him she’d been busy, she even went on to share how some of her interviews had gone, who she liked and disliked talking to. She didn’t say she had gone into the shop looking for him; it didn’t quite feel right to her. Finally, once the tea had brewed and they had warmed up a little, Jaime looked at her with a straight face.

“I’d like to have your phone number”, he told her and turned to look at her, their knees almost touching – “And if you’re okay with it, I’d like to take you out on a date. Lunch, dinner, coffee, another movie, you name it.”

Norms of society told her to smile as pretty as she could and agree, the little girl in Brienne’s heart told her to throw herself into his arms because she had finally found a prince charming who was willing to see past her appearance. But the voice of septa Roelle, of Margery Tyrell and Ron Connington, her own bitter voice, told her not to believe him, to be wary, to decline any kind of invitation towards intimacy. There was a battle in her mind, and an even fiercer battle in her heart, she wanted to leap, but she wasn’t ready to take the fall. So instead, she settled for the midground, looking straight into his green eyes, she let a sight out before talking.

“Why?”, the question came out a whisper, her eyes dropping to the cup of tea between her hands, the residue of leaves suddenly fascinating on the bottom of her cup. 

“Why?”, Jaime asked clearly not understanding the question. She couldn’t blame him; he probably didn’t have girls question his motives, he probably didn’t have to ask girls out in the first place. 

“Why do you, Jaime Lannister, CFO of Lannister Enterprises, world-renowned bachelor, and psychopath who thinks he owns a public table, want to go out on a date with me, of all people?”

She had meant to make it sound humorous, she had expected her words to be taken lightly, but they had come out trembling. At that moment, she was sure that he’d stand, pick up his things and leave, she wasn’t the confident woman who had told him to fuck off at the coffee shop, and she wasn’t the woman in the blue dress anymore. But he didn’t; instead, he smiled at her, a smile so deep it showed his dimples, and his eyes shone.

“If this is your idea of a joke…”, she warned him, her emotions going from fear to anger, men only wanted one thing from her, and that was to make her suffer.

“It’s not. This is not a joke, only some sick bastard would ask you out and mean it as a joke, and I’m a bastard, but I’m not sick”, Jaime said quickly defending himself.

Jaime paused for a minute, drank some tea and placed the cup and saucer on the small table before them.

“You are unlike any woman I have ever met,” he explained, “You are smart and interesting, and you’re not afraid to call me out on my shit. You wear hideous clothes and look beautiful in blue dresses, and I can talk to you. I am quite sure you think of me as Jaime Lannister the idiot who is overly attached to a table and not Jaime Lannister, CFO of Lannister Enterprises, despite your little number a few minutes ago.”

Brienne felt the blush creeping up from her chest to her neck and reaching her cheeks. She did think of him as Jaime Lannister, the idiot who was overly attached to a table, on a few occasions she had thought of him as the most handsome jerk she had ever met, she most definitely did not think of him as his last name, people were more than their names after all. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Brienne allowed a small smile to form on her lips, Jaime Lannister certainly wouldn’t be cruel as Hyle Hunt and his poesy, he couldn’t be, right?

“I’m not like any woman you’ve ever dated.”

“No, you’re not, and that’s what makes you attractive,” he said sincerely, “Come on, wench, it’s an invitation to go on a date, not a fucking marriage proposal.”

He smiled at her and reason lost, she smiled back, gave him her number and they chatted for a while. He did the talking, and she was grateful for it, he told her about the old lady in the 5C who had said to him that she could be whomever he wanted her to be. The told her how he had almost beheaded someone by throwing a legal pad but quickly said his anger was justified, someone had misplaced a check for fifty thousand dragons. Then, when his socks were dry enough, and his shoes didn’t feel like standing on puddles, he stood up, put them on and walked to the door. She walked behind him and stood aside as he left the room.

On Friday night, between doing laundry and doing some fact checking regarding the Dragonpit, Jaime sent her a text asking if she felt like going out for lunch on Saturday, she took a few minutes and told him she would, and just like that she was dating Jaime Lannister. He took her out to a small restaurant on Street of Steel, and they laughed and shared a bottle of wine which they drank too fast, leading them to have to stroll around the area, finding a little park with shade. When he asked her if she wanted to catch a movie on Sunday, she considered canceling her plans with the Starks but decided to decline his invitation; she would not turn into one of those girls whose whole world revolved around a man.

Sunday afternoon she found herself sitting on the comfy couch of Sansa’s apartment. The place only slightly bigger than Brienne’s but Sansa had made it look and feel like a home. Her décor and the outline of the furniture allowed for more light to come into the room and made it feel bigger; the place was pristine, and that was a clear indication that Arya had already left King’s Landing. The Stark children were scattered all over Westeros, it seemed, Sansa lived at King’s Landing, Arya and Rickon lived in the North but Arya visited almost every month, as for Bran, he was studying in Old Town, and Jon was working with the Night’s Watch and the Wildings to come to a treaty north of the Wall. 

They had lit scented candles and were sharing some wine and cheese, talking about the crazy week they had survived and Sansa going on to what things she had on the table for next week, not for her, luckily. Brienne was sitting there, sipping on wine and feeling as girly as she would ever feel, and although it was all so new, although there really wasn’t much to share, she felt the need to share it with someone, and who better than Sansa Stark to keep a secret.

“Are people still talking about me dating Jaime Lannister?”, Brienne asked as she picked an olive.

“No, they have moved on to Loras Tyrell’s newest boy toy. You did cause quite a commotion, though, you’d never believe how the searches spiked when Ramsay showed that picture of you two at the launch.” Sansa said casually, she was 'friend Sansa' right then, not 'editor Sansa; and that was Brienne’s favorite Sansa, “It was a super cute picture though, I printed a copy for you, it’s somewhere in my desk.”

“Sansa,” Brienne said softly to make sure she had the girl’s full attention, “I think I’m dating Jaime Lannister.”

* * *

They had been dating for two weeks, she had been dating Jaime Lannister for two weeks, and she hadn’t gone crazy or tried to kill him or discovered that he was playing her all along. It had been two weeks of unread text messages waiting for her when she woke up, of thinking about him first thing in the morning and the last thing when she got to bed. Two weeks of secret smiles at the café and having dinner or hanging out over at The Hound’s Bar. Her writing had been slightly pushed aside, she wasn’t turning in as many pages as she usually did, except for that period when she was seeing Tormund and writing book 3. Yet, she didn’t feel guilty about it; on the contrary, she felt that she was turning less quantity but more quality and that worked for her and her editors. 

Inside the walls of Roaring Coffee things were the same, they shared a table; they shared a pastry, bickered about someone’s things going over the imaginary line they had traced to divide the space equally. The first week of their relationship, the second week since her book was launched, Brienne missed a few days at the coffee shop not wanting to draw any attention to the place. When things went back to normal, she went back to her usual hours at Roaring, she smiled when Pod was working, he had finished the book in less than a week and after asking if it was okay, had shared with her his favorite parts and his excitement for the upcoming novel. He didn’t ask if that was what she was working on every day and she appreciated it, though if the boy had asked, she would have told him the truth. The days Mya was in were quiet and polite. Mya was older, she was working fewer shifts each month, and Brienne learned that the girl was close to graduating from KLU and trying to balance her personal life, school, and a job while also applying to different companies in search of a real internship. Brienne admired the young woman, she knew it wasn’t easy and yet, each time they interacted, Mya always had a smile for her. 

Just like Randa had a smile for Jaime every time he walked in, or looked her way, or when he was on his way out. It was true that she had never been particularly fond of Randa. If she wanted to believe some stupid psychobabble, she would have agreed that the reason why she didn’t like Randa was because the girl personified everything Brienne had hated in school, she looked like a popular girl, talked like a popular girl, flirted like a popular girl. If she was honest, she just didn’t like the way Randa interacted with Jaime; not when Brienne first saw her talking to him and especially not now that she was sort of his girlfriend, she was his girlfriend, right?

Brienne saw Jaime coming into the shop and blushed when he caught her looking and winked at her; the man was incorrigible. Sometimes she wondered if he was still a boy trapped in a man’s body and then she remembered her father telling her that all men where boys pretending to know what they were doing. Brienne tried not to look at the counter, she tried with all her might, the last thing she needed was for Randa to make fun of her or tell Jaime that he had a stalker, but she couldn’t help herself. 

When she turned, Jaime was standing a bit farther away from the counter as he pulled out his wallet. Brienne remembered the first interactions she had witnessed and felt relieved that he wasn’t leaning on the bar as he used to; Randa, however, was still leaning forward, offering a clear view of her cleavage under the apron she wore. Brienne couldn’t make out the words, but she could clearly make out the girlish giggle and the rumble of Jaime’s voice. She was not a jealous woman, she had never been one, but she was starting to wonder if it was because she was an honest person who trusted others or because she had never had someone who she cared enough for as to feel jealousy. She thought of Tormund, of the times they had gone out and girls had smiled at him and turned his way, she hadn’t felt jealous then, so why was she suddenly feeling so strongly about Jaime.

_Because you’re afraid he’ll realize he is way out of your league,_ the voice of Margery Tyrell echoed in her head.

_Because he’ll never settle for someone as ugly as you,_ said her inner Ron Connington.

_Because he only wants one thing, and it’s either between your legs or inside your brain, pray it’s only a scoop of your book he wants, child_ , septa Roelle’s words echoed in her mind.

All the warm feelings Jaime had stirred in her with that stupid wink were replaced by anger. She was angry at Randa for flirting shamelessly. She was angry at Jaime for allowing the flirting to take place, she was angry at Margery Tyrell and Ron Connington and septa Roelle, but overall, she was angry at herself. 

_You can’t let those thoughts control you_ , she told herself as she took a deep breath, _he will always have woman flirting with him, the important thing is what he does about it._  

As if on cue, Jaime appeared by her side, his usual cup of steaming coffee on the one hand and a plate with a blueberry muffin cut in half on the other. To any bystander, they would have looked like friends sharing a pastry, to Mya or Randa they were just two customers with a weird routine, Pod might have caught something else from the situation, but she wasn’t sure. But to Brienne, the simple offering of a blueberry muffin was enough to tear down her fears; she loved blueberry muffins, he, on the other side, preferred vanilla muffins with a cinnamon sugar twirl. 

“What’s going on up there?”, Jaime asked as he drank from the mug, his green eyes capturing the last rays of sun, the days were growing shorter, “Honestly, Brienne.”

“Do you think Randa has father issues?”, Brienne blurted before she could even think her words through, in one question she had implied Jaime was old and that Randa only flirted with him because she wasn’t too sound in the head. She held her breath, ready to hear for him to defend himself, to tell her to stay away from his business.

“It’s called daddy issues, wench,” he said with a smile, “It means nothing, I know it, she knows it, I figured you knew it too, we’ve been doing it since she first started working here.”

Her rational mind appreciated his words, in her rational mind she knew he was right, that flirting with Randa was something he did just because, that it meant nothing and that even if the girl wanted to act upon it, he most likely wouldn’t. Most likely. However, in her heart she was just a girl who wanted to be comforted by her boyfriend, shit, he was her boyfriend, right? She couldn’t ask him; she wouldn’t have wanted the pressure if it had been the other way around. But if he wasn’t her boyfriend then she really had no right to want to be comforted, she had no right to want a declaration of faithfulness and something dumb and cheesy like saying he only wanted to flirt with her, not with any pretty brunettes with full lips and eyes that oozed sex.

She had never been one to hide her discomfort easily, her face almost always gave her away, that was what her father said at least, so she tried to not look at him, she typed in her computer and read a few paragraphs over and over before deleting them. She only picked on the muffin, and by the time Jaime finished his coffee, she was ready to let him walk away, ready to conjure a thousand different scenarios in her mind in which he was dating her but also dating half of the ladies in King’s Landing. She was waiting for him to leave so that her thoughts could turn on her, tell her she was a distraction; that she wasn’t really in a relationship with him. 

“Would you mind walking with me back to the office? It’s less than ten minutes away”, he asked, and for some reason, she agreed. Closing her computer, she threw everything in her bag, picked up the muffin and followed him into the street.

They walked in silence, her bag felt heavy, and she was grateful for the weather turning colder because otherwise, she would have been sweating already. Jaime walked close to her like he usually did, but he didn’t take her hand or touch her back, a part of her wanted him to, another part didn’t, her hands were usually sweaty, and Jaime Lannister did not look like a man with clammy palms. Soon, the Lannister building was before them, she had only seen it a few times and always in passing, yet, standing before it, the building looked as impressive as the Red Keep had looked the first time she saw it. She wondered in which floor did Jaime work, what the view was like from his office, she wondered if he ever ate at the cafeteria, if the building had some fancy area for the employees to relax.

Suddenly stopping on the corner of the street, with his hands buried deep inside his pockets, Jaime turned to look at her, his face serious and without an ounce of mischief. Brienne grew uneasy; a serious Jaime Lannister was something she was not used to.

“I know something is bothering you,” he said as he looked straight into her eyes, Jaime Lannister did not beat around the bush, “If this relationship is going to work, I need you to talk to me. I know you think I’m great, and I am, but I can’t read your mind. If something is wrong I need you to tell me, don’t get mad and shut me out and I promise I’ll do the same.”

She should have been paying attention to the rest of his words, but he lost her the moment he said they were in a relationship. She smiled despite the seriousness of his voice; she smiled because of how serious he was. He cared about her, cared about them, he was only asking for honesty, and she could give him honesty even if it meant she would embarrass herself from time to time.

Brienne opened her mouth only to close it again, a group of pretty girls in tight skirts had just walked past them, smiling and calling out Jaime’s name as they made their way towards the building. She looked at them and then thought of how she looked, with her lose khakis and comfy flats, everything in Jaime’s world seemed to be beautiful, everything but one thing.

“I don’t look like the girls you’re used to dating,” she confessed and hoped that he’d pick up what she meant.

“You don’t,” he said and took her hand, her clammy hand, in his, “Brienne, I might be a lot of things, but I don’t cheat. Those girls, I don’t even know their names, and I don’t care to learn them either, okay?”

“Okay,” she said and felt more at ease, even if she knew her hands were sweating like crazy.

“I’m going in now, but thank you for walking me back to the office, honey,” he said in his typical mocking tone, and she smiled at him. 

“Go on, Lannister.” 

“I’ll call you later, Tarth.”

 


	9. Motorcycle Rides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jaime,” Tywin said as a salad was served, “Thirty-two is not an acceptable age to start experimenting with drugs.”
> 
> “Exactly, dear brother, at thirty-two you should already know what drugs you like,” Tyrion added mockingly.

He had dated supermodels, he had dated singers and well-known photographers, once or twice Jaime was sure he dated someone with bloodlines as old as his, but he had never dated a writer, and most definitely had never dated anyone he wanted to impress as much as he wanted to impress Brienne. He had pretty much given up on the idea of putting effort into romantic relationships after a girl from boarding school agreed to be his girlfriend and then dumped him a week later for a Dornish exchange student. Ever since he had been too good to get someone flowers, sometimes too busy to learn a girl’s name, he tended to call them ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling,’ and they all seemed to love it. With Brienne, though, not only he was sure that those things wouldn’t work, but he actually wanted to give it a shot, he wanted to do the wine and dine thing, he wanted to learn her favorite food, the name of her childhood pet, her favorite sex position. 

So he forgot about the fancy dinners on the restaurant on the top floor of the Red Keep and discarded any ideas of taking her to bars in fancy hotels and crossed out every single name of the trendiest clubs in King’s Landing and instead, he decided to go old school. Brienne wasn’t the kind of girl who liked to get dolled up in high heels and tight dresses, though she looked good in them. He was sure that if he took her out on a date that had a dress code, she’d be too worried about her appearance to enjoy his company, and he was not about to sabotage himself. So planned simpler things, lunch at some mid-range restaurant near the office, dinner and drinks in a small place by the Street of Steel, evenings out at The Hound’s bar in their usual booth. And she seemed to enjoy them, so he continued trying to find activities that he hadn’t done since his college days for them to do at their dates. When he suggested hitting the road and wasting some hours driving along the coastline, she smiled and quickly agreed.

On Sunday morning Jaime packed a map, an extra battery and drove to Brienne’s place. It was still early, but the sun was already in the sky, and its light made everything looked like it was tainted orange, he dared to think it was a perfect fall day. He called her and said he was waiting for her; she sounded confused at his request to come down instead of having him walk to her door, but said nothing. The look on her face when she opened the door and saw him leaning against the shiny black motorcycle would haunt his dreams for weeks to come, he knew as much.

“Of course you have a motorcycle,” she said rolling her eyes but appreciating the vehicle. Something he had learned about Brienne was that she enjoyed nice machines. 

“Well of course I have one,” he agreed and gave her that smirk that she loved to hate, “What respectable pretty rich boy doesn’t?”

She smiled at him, and he offered her one of his leather jackets and extra helmets. If he was honest, there were a few reasons why he had decided to take the bike instead of his beautiful car. First, because soon it would be too cold to ride it and he hadn’t ridden enough in the summer. Second, he was dying to see her in some of his clothes. Third, he really wanted to feel her body pressed against his, and he was willing to take the close turns and push the bike to the limit if only to make sure that she was holding on to him for dear life.

As different as planning dates with Brienne was, it wasn’t the only thing that set her apart from the many other women he had dated, seriously or casually. Usually, Jaime got to know his lady friends intimately in the first or second date, depending on how much he liked them and how much they bored him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to approach a more physical relationship with Brienne, because he did, his cock had known that before his brain or his heart knew they wanted something with her. But Brienne didn’t seem like the type of girl who jumped in bed with a guy on the first date. So he took her out on one date, two dates, three dates and all he got was a kiss on the cheek, on the fifth date he managed to hold her hand and have her not pull away. When he tried to kiss her on the seventh date, she turned and he kissed her cheek instead. He remembered feeling frustrated, and he remembered feeling guilty afterward because despite what the tabloids said, he wasn’t a complete jerk and he was not going to force her into something she didn’t want. Not after the way she had reacted when he kissed her in the car almost six weeks ago. 

But by the Seven he wanted to kiss her again, he wanted to feel her thin lips against his, he wanted to touch her face and run his fingers through her hair, he wanted to know if it was dry or silky and what shampoo she used and what it smelled like. Kissing her, touching her and making her tremble under his touch were the only things he could think about when they had coffee in the afternoons. He would get there, and she would be working, she’d bite her lip, and he’d have to recite prime numbers to control his awkward boners. Brienne had him feeling like a green boy again, and while it made him feel more alive, but it also came with uncomfortable moments in public spaces.

“So, are you ready to roll?” he asked once she had the jacket on and he had his thoughts in check, she didn’t answer but instead climbed behind him, her thighs brushing against his legs and he kicked the engine to life, “Hold on tight.” 

They left the city through the Mud Gate and drove along the coast of the Blackwater Bay. He remembered the first time he rode down that highway, sixteen years ago and in a much simpler machine, how many times he had hit the road since? Hundreds probably; yet, he had never taken a girl with him. He had traveled that road during the summer, got caught in the rain during the fall, grazed the Stranger when impulsively testing how fast his bike could go when snow had fallen in King’s Landing. However, driving with Brienne attached to his body seemed like the most dangerous thing he had done yet. It wasn’t because of the speed, he was being a responsible adult and driving just under the speed limit, and it wasn’t because of the weather, he had checked that the skies would be clear for the entire day. It was because he was taking her into uncharted terrain. Because he didn’t mind sharing with her something that made him truly happy. It was dangerous because he was feeling things he hadn’t felt in forever, things he had probably never felt before.

They stopped just after noon in a little town some miles before Duskendale, it probably had a population of a thousand people, but the town overlooked the bay and the few times he had been there, the food had been good and the restrooms clean. Leaving the bike in a parking lot not too far off from the town’s scenic overview, Jaime picked one of the bags from the side of the bike and led the way. That place in the middle of nowhere was one of his happy places, somewhere he would feel like he could breathe, the air felt clear, and if he was able to tell the difference, he was sure Brienne would appreciate it much more than him.

As he threw the bag on a picnic table and sat down, he turned to look at Brienne. Her hair was flying against the wind after being freed from the helmet, the jacket was open and seemed to have been made for her, and she had a soft on her face. She looked beautiful, calm and worry-free and he wanted to see her like that every single day. For someone so young, she seemed to have lived a lot, he could tell by her serious attitude, by her lack of sense of adventure, by how much she liked to play by the rules. 

“What are you thinking?”, he asked after staring at her for a few minutes and realizing how lost she actually was in the moment.

She turned to look at him, and her smile grew wider, taking her eyes off the view, she climbed into the table and sat next to him, her feet on the bench seat and their knees touching. It felt good to have her be the one to close the distance between them; it felt good to know that she was getting more comfortable around him. And gods, it had felt so good to have her arms wrapped around his body for the last two and a half hours.

“That you should wear jeans more often,” she said with a mischievous smile, and he almost coughed in surprise, she had never, ever, said something like that to him, “Oh my god, did I just say that out loud? Oh my god.” 

“So you do think I’m pretty!” he teased and placed his arm around her shoulders.

They shared their sandwiches and helped families get their picture taken, they talked about hobbies and family vacations and what they loved and hated about King’s Landing, and then Brienne suggested they took a picture and he agreed. As they struggled to get a nice picture for the fourth time, a fifteen-year-old kid recognized Brienne and asked for her autograph, Jaime told the kid he could have it if he helped them get a decent picture. On the first attempt, Brienne was still scowling at him, on the second, she closed her eyes, and on the third, she finally saw something she liked.

Later, once the sun started to set, Jaime decided it was time to get going, he started securing the things in the bike’s satchels and then turned around to find Brienne completely lost in thought. She was staring at the sea, maybe thinking about her little island of Tarth, perhaps thinking of adventures; who knew what went on the wench’s head, she was full of surprises. Taking advantage of the situation, Jaime decided to get lost in the sight of her; he had noticed how everytime he seemed to look at her for a little too long, she’d get all shy and turn away, ask him to stop whatever it was he was doing. With her on an entirely different planet, at least he had the change to memorize a bit more of the woman who had been so happily haunting his dreams. 

He had not been mistaken, Brienne was so different from any other girl, or woman, he had dated and not only in the physical and intellectual department. Brienne Tarth came with baggage, that was plain to see; he had noted that the very first time they met, the way she dressed as if to make herself invisible, the politeness of her voice that pushed people away. With each passing day, he had seen more things about her, like how she didn’t trust anyone except for a few people, but if you were lucky enough for her to trust you, you had her trust forever. She shied away from conventionally attractive people, probably after a lifetime of criticism, and she tried damned hard to make people believe she didn’t need anyone.

Yes, Brienne came with baggage, but the Seven knew he did too.

The Young Lion they called him, the boy who would take Lannister Enterprises to the next level, the one who would pave the way for the next big thing. All those magazines came up with great headlines, they took great pictures and portrayed a confident man that knew he could take over the world with a swift signature on a paper. How wrong those magazines were. Those writers didn’t realize that no matter how big the deal, no matter how groundbreaking the idea, Tywin Lannister would never be happy. They didn’t know that no matter how many books he read, how many honor degrees he held, he would never be as smart as Tyrion, never be able to achieve the profound conversations his brother had. He knew that if Tyrion had been born in a normal body, their father would have picked the younger boy over the eldest, and he would have made sure everybody knew about it. For someone who apparently had the world at his feet, Jaime was always trying to contain his jealousy. He was jealous of how smart his brother was, of how cold-hearted and calculative his sister was, of how others seemed to have a simpler, happier life; he was jealous of all the things he couldn’t have because he was a Lannister. And that was when the guilt came in because he wasn’t supposed to feel miserable when he owned half of King’s Landing, he wasn’t supposed to be jealous of the lads that had to work since freshman year to pay for college.

He let a sigh out and was about to call out her name when a wave crashed against the cliff so hard that it splattered near the rails and a little girl screamed with glee, breaking Brienne out of her trance. Feeling a bit nostalgic, Jaime walked up to her and pressed a kiss to Brienne’s temple; he sighed with relief when she didn’t pull away. An old couple, locals probably, walked past them and smiled, he smiled back, happy with where he was and who he was with.

“Do you think that kid thought we were dating?” Brienne asked shyly, and he turned to look at the little girl who was already running away, “Not her, the boy who took our picture.” 

“Maybe,” he said and stood up, he offered his hand, and she took it, “If not, he sure knows we are friends, you did say that on national television,” he added with a smile. 

She chuckled, and he couldn’t take it anymore, taking a deep breath, Jaime looked into her eyes which were a deeper blue than the sea beneath them. 

“Can I kiss you? If you run away again, I might take it personally.”

She smiled at him, and that was all the permission he needed. Slowly, he leaned towards her, trapping her body between his arms and making her take a small step back until her back hit the rail. Brienne met him halfway, this time it was her who cupped his cheek, her hands were soft and tender, warm despite the cold air, and she smelled like her and like him, and he knew he had just found a new favorite scent. It was, by all means, a chaste kiss that shouldn’t have gotten his blood running but it did, and in his attempt to shift and get comfortable, he pressed his lips further into hers. For a second, she stopped moving and time froze, Jaime’s eyes shoot open in something near panic, but then Brienne pulled him closer to her, her teeth nibbling softly on his bottom lip and he couldn’t help but let a soft moan out. He broke apart but kept her in his arms, enjoying the feeling of her warm body against his. Her body was different from what he was used to in a woman, and that somehow made things more appealing, feeling his jeans tighter, Jaime coughed and pulled away, saying it was time they started heading back. 

If having her body pressed against his on the way over was glorious, having her body pressed against his on the way back was heavenly torture. He could have sworn her arms were holding him lower, not at the waist but the hips, and he knew that if she were to lower her hands a little, she’d feel just how happy he was to have her behind him. Jaime slowed down the bike when they entered the city, both in consideration to the speed limit and because his mind had been half absent since he felt Brienne’s helmet resting openly against his shoulder.

The second he parked the bike in front of her apartment; a soft drizzle started falling. Why was it that he always ended up stuck in the rain when it came to her? With the bike standing securely, Brienne got off and returned the helmet, her cheeks were blotchy, and he didn’t know if it was because she was blushing of because it had been a bit hot in there.

“It’s going to rain,” she said looking at the sky, trying to stretch the few minutes they had left, “You shouldn’t drive that in the rain.”

“I’ve been riding since before you were born, kid, I’ll be fine,” Jaime replied as he ran a hand through his hair, the motion was flawless, and he knew it made him look super cool, he had practiced it before the mirror to make sure of it. 

 _Twelve_ , he thought as he added to the count of how many times Brienne had rolled her eyes at him since they met in the morning. 

“Maybe you should stay…” 

He grew silent at the words she said, lewd thoughts coming back to his mind in an instant. For the last six weeks they had spent most of their time in public places, once or twice she had agreed to stop by his apartment so that he could change out of his work clothes, but she had never had dinner with him, and she had not invited him back into her place. It was getting darker, and it was sure to rain soon which would mean that he’d either be spending the night or staying until very late, he wanted to spend the night with her so badly, even if it didn’t involve sex. He was realizing, in a quite painful way, that he had missed physical contact deeply. But he also knew that Brienne was a strong woman who was full of insecurities, and he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable or think she needed to invite him over if she didn’t feel like it, plus, he had a stupid Sunday dinner to attend.

“I really shouldn’t,” he whispered as he let go of the handle and cupped her cheek, “I want to, I really do, but I shouldn’t, and I have dinner with my father.”

With what could only be described as a peck, Jaime put his helmet back on and drove away, making sure that the engine roared loudly and added a roll of eyes number thirteen to his list, there was no way she hadn’t rolled her eyes at that. When he got home, he sent Brienne a text and changed into more formal attire, Jaime had never understood why something as simple as Sunday dinner called for them to dress up, but it always had, even when mother had been alive, so he didn’t complain. Throwing on some black dress pants and a more casual shirt, Jaime switched keys and prepared for yet another miserable dinner in the Lannister estate.

The rain and a couple of closed roads got him stuck in traffic, but despite the lousy weather and the fact that for some reason there was a standstill in the street, Jaime couldn’t stop smiling. That kiss had been probably the best kiss of his life, and if that was what she had in store for him, then he was willing to wait for her to set whatever pace she felt comfortable with. 

When he arrived, five minutes late and but not really caring about the lecture he was about to get, Jaime noticed that there was only one extra car in the driveway, Tyrion’s, with a smile, he stepped into the house, happy to know he wouldn’t be the one getting the worst scolding. The butler took him straight to the dining room, where Tywin and Tyrion sat in a very uncomfortable silence. With a real smile and still feeling high on Brienne’s kiss, Jaime excused himself from the delay and took his seat by father’s right. The good news just kept coming; apparently, Cersei was indisposed and would not be attending dinner; that only made him smile further. He was in a good mood, something that was unusual in the Lannister home and caught Tywin’s attention.

“Jaime,” Tywin said as a salad was served, “Thirty-two is not an acceptable age to start experimenting with drugs.”

“Exactly, dear brother, at thirty-two you should already know what drugs you like,” Tyrion added mockingly.

“I’m not on drugs, thank you very much”, he clarified and that only made him smile broader.

* * *

Jaime had been blessed with a naturally good physique and fast metabolism, he had always been fit and lean, even when he fed his body trash during college. However, there was a point when he hit thirty in which his pants started feeling tight, and his shirts seemed to be struggling to close. The day after his thirtieth name day Jaime picked up the phone, hired Clegane as his personal trainer, and changed everything about the way he ate. Having had a perfect body for most of his life, he was frustrated when two weeks into his rigorous training and eating plan, he saw no change, that was when Sandor Clegane told him to stop being a pussy and stick to it. Later, he found some inspirational quote that said it took four weeks for you to notice your body changing, eight weeks for your friends to notice and twelve weeks for the rest of the world to do so. And indeed, 12 weeks later, he wasn’t just feeling better, but the interns were giving him the eye again. Jaime wondered if the same logic applied to relationships.

It had taken him four weeks to realize how having Brienne in his life was changing things, mostly for the better. Slowly, he started getting out of the office earlier than used to, he started checking his phone more often but not the emails but his messages, in hopes of finding something from her. He continued working out in the mornings, but now he did it with a renewed sense of purpose, he wanted to impress her, and with all the dinners they were having in which he felt like indulging, he had to make up for it in the gym. There was only one aspect in which Jaime was struggling with this new relationship on his plate, and that was that he had less time to read, hence, he had to spend his nights and weekends catching up on work stuff, leaving his friends Cap and Jacobs frozen in a parallel universe. 

The week after their trip to Duskendale, Jaime decided it was time to finish the book. That week he only stopped by Roaring Coffee to say hi to Brienne and pick up his usual, taking that time to continue working and then staying in late reading for pleasure. It was working just fine, the silence and few distractions that his office held made him read faster, the pages continued turning, and soon he was almost done with the book. He was in the most interesting part, the part in which the hero hits the second wall, and then, at the end of chapter 75, Jaime cursed loudly, closed the book and dashed to his car. 

He must have run at least two red lights and pulled three illegal maneuvers; he parked terribly on the street and took the stairs two at a time. Before his brain started working again, he was banging on Brienne’s door and then rushing into her apartment with his hands buried deep in his hair. He turned to look at her, pure anger in his eyes and she looked scared, standing against a closed door wearing flannel pajamas.

“How could you!” he screamed, and Brienne jumped a little. Jaime turned back around and took a deep breath; it was almost 10 pm, he did not need to be screaming in her apartment, he just needed an explanation, and he needed it now, “He was trying to save her! He was doing the right thing, how could you!”

It took Brienne a minute to understand what he was talking about, but when it clicked, her expression went from surprise to anger, anger that matched his and then made his look like child’s play. He liked happy Brienne; he was a little scared of angry Brienne. 

“Keep reading, I am not talking to you until you finish at least six more chapters,” she said calmly as she walked back to the small living room and took a seat.

“You won't be talking to me in at least two days then!”, Jaime exclaimed, he sounded almost desperate, and he honestly didn’t know if it was because she wouldn’t be talking to him for a few days or because she wouldn’t tell him what happened next. 

“I know,” she said with a cheeky smile, “Go on now, keep reading.”

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find Tywin Lannister a very interesting character, I loved him in the books and I loved him in the show, sorry if he comes across a little off here. Also, I absolutely love dorky Jaime.


	10. Feeling Adrift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What bothered her the most, she realized, was that when she said that she didn’t know what she would have done without him, it was more than partially true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter might be slightly longer than the previous ones but there's just so many things going on here!

Brienne couldn’t help but chuckle every time she remembered how Jaime Lannister, the man with nerves of steel and the perfect poker face, had stormed into her apartment late at night because something had happened to his favorite character. She smiled at how childish Jaime could be, how upset he had been and how she hadn’t heard from him in three days after his little scene. She would never let anything too bad happen to Special Agent Jacobs, his little accident had been unfair, he had been trying to save Cap, but things didn’t come free or easy, and it was about time Jacobs paid for some of his relentlessness. Anyway, once Jaime had finished the book, he had calmed down and apologized for his actions. One thing that she liked about Jaime Lannister was how he never forced her to discuss with any book events, the way he almost always stayed clear from the fact that she was a writer. But just after finishing book 6, she had seen him posting and commenting on forums which discussed the books and things they thought might happen. She found it both endearing and a little annoying but let it slip away.

It was amazing really, how Brienne was the one to dish out the details of a ‘juicy’ relationship with a sought bachelor while Sansa tried to discreetly pin for a grouchy bartender from Flea Bottom. To Brienne it seemed as if their cards had been switched, by all rights, Sansa should have been the one dating gorgeous and wealthy Jaime Lannister and Brienne should have been the one dating self-made and quiet Sandor Clegane, but the gods had their own plans and they delt the cards however they thought better. 

“Is it everything you ever dreamed? Everything you ever wanted?” Sansa had asked once as they shared some wine on a Thursday night. 

_Everything I ever wanted?,_ Brienne asked herself, _I never even dreamed of a relationship with a man, much less one with a man like Jaime._

Jaime Lannister, sometimes she still couldn’t quite believe it; Jaime Lannister, gods. That phrase, endearing and a little annoying, was precisely how she would describe their relationship. The good things about Jaime Lannister made her want to forget about her boundaries and let him sweep her off her feet. The was the most good-looking man she had ever seen, with those shiny green eyes and that smile that could cut glass, and he knew he was handsome, which boosted his confidence and even his ego. Being in a relationship with Jaime Lannister, she soon learned, was being in a relationship with his ego, because that man didn’t have a single day in his life in which he didn’t look perfect. But it wasn’t just the physical aspect of him, which was, well, beautiful; he had a tender heart; he donated his time and money to different charities and always had time for any child who walked up to him. He was the only man who had never pushed her into a physical relationship, letting her set the pace of whatever they did or didn’t do. Jaime was also a nerd at heart. He geeked out talking with other people, Sam Tarly mostly, about what could happen in the upcoming book. He was also an art nerd; the man was like a walking encyclopedia, something she had discovered when they toured the Red Keep together and when he offered to walk with her through the Dragonpit for the thousandth time. His soul was also tender, him being a child of a broken home just like her but with a distant father instead of a loving one, Jaime Lannister was begging to be loved but didn’t always know how to receive that love, making him develop his own detachment methods. 

Jaime Lannister was like a rose, beautiful to look at, fragrant when close, but it had thorns, and they could hurt if you didn’t handle it with care. They were only a few but the bad things about him, made her keep her guard up. He could be harsh to the point of vile, his tongue sharp and poisonous, if she ever thought he had lashed out at her when critiquing her clothes or hair, it was nothing compared to the way he could belittle the people who crossed him. Jaime Lannister, the compassionate man who cared about children and geeks, could also stalk his prey with no mercy, destroying its nerves and then attack when it was most vulnerable. And then there was something he couldn’t control but haunted Brienne, which was his past. She knew he had been quite a ladies man in his younger years; he had dated many beautiful women but then, suddenly, he seemed to have settled for her. Brienne found that suspicious, hard to believe; there was a man who had cold blood and seemed to get more beautiful with each passing year and yet, he was with her. Deep down, Brienne knew there would come a day, probably after he bedded her, in which he woke up, took a look at her, and decided that his charity work was not to be taken to bed. Brienne knew she was a strong woman, knew she could survive a breakup, even if the relationship was beautiful, but she also knew that she wouldn’t be able to survive falling in love only to have her heart broken, not by him.

_He’s a good man_ , she tried to tell herself after getting all worked up just thinking about breakups. She turned to look up and found Sansa still waiting for an answer, she smiled and drank her wine.

“He is something else,” she finally answered. Yes, he was something else, which she verified for herself in the wee hours of a Wednesday morning.

One of the first things Catelyn Stark taught her was always back up her work. Technology was great but could be unreliable, hard copies were great but could be easy to misplace, whichever approach she took to her writing, she needed to back up her work. It was a simple rule, easy really if one took the time to set up the right programs once a computer was bought. It was also the rule she happened to break more often, who had time to back up a file when her hero was hanging from a broken bridge and about to fall to a certain death? She sure didn’t, but she sure ought to.

Brienne had been asleep on when she dreamed of something and woke with a start, she had to write it down before the idea slipped her mind, it had happened before, and she couldn’t tell how many times she had mourned for ideas that were long gone. So she took her phone from the nightstand and typed in a quick note. When she closed her eyes again, something else came up and then another thing, in the end, at 1:30 in the morning, she got out of bed and pulled out her computer. Sitting the phone next to her screen, she typed everything that the note said and then continued working, she was on fire, she was in the zone, and she ultimately ignored the little warning box that urged her to plug in her computer to a power outlet.

She cursed when the computer powered down in the middle of a sentence, the itch to continue writing driving her crazy as she looked around for the power chord. She plugged the machine in, plugged the other end to the chord and hit the power button, nothing happened. Exasperated, she gave the thing a few seconds, maybe the battery was really dead, she pushed the power button more firmly, and nothing happened.

_Shit_ , she thought as she turned on every light in the room as if seeing the computer better would make a difference, “Shit!”, she screamed when nothing powered on.

She started panicking, pacing around the room and trying to remember the last time she had bothered to upload her files to the stupid cloud or sun or sky or whatever the damned thing was called. Impulsively, she picked up the phone and dialed the first number that came to her mind; he picked up on the third ring. 

“Please tell me this is a booty call,” Jaime Lannister’s sleepy voice greeted her through the phone.

“My computer won’t turn on, Jaime,” she mumbled on the verge of tears, “I’ve tried…” 

“I’ll be right there,” he said sounding suddenly wide-awake and hung up before she could speak.

He got there in fifteen minutes when it should have taken him at least twenty, but she didn’t notice. When she hung up, she started thinking of how her book was now lost forever, taking a deep breath Brienne tried to recall if she had mishandled her computer, dropped it or... gods, how else did you manage to screw up a computer. After insulting herself for being clumsy and careless, she started thinking of solutions. She could take the computer to the store, but the stores wouldn’t be open until 9 am, and she didn’t know if she could handle it. The sound of someone knocking on the door thankfully interrupted her thoughts.

Jaime walked in wearing jeans and a hoodie, his hair perfectly tousled and a stubble growing on his face, and despite her current predicament, she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked.

_No one should look that good at 3 in the morning_ ; she thought as she closed the door.

“What happened? Where is it?”, he asked looking around; his voice was calm as he looked around the room.

Silently, Brienne went to her room and brought out the computer and power chord. She started explaining how she had woken up with an idea and then made a note on her phone before pulling out the laptop. She told him that everything was fine until the battery died and then she couldn’t turn it back on. Starting to feel stupid for making him drive across town at such hour, she excused her actions and told him she could probably just take it to the store later that day. 

“And risk such precious information? No way, get your shoes and jacket”, he said as he picked up the computer and power chord. When she didn’t move, he looked at her with pleading eyes, “Do you trust me?” She didn’t answer, she went into her room and quickly changed out of her pajamas.

She had her computer on her lap, and Jaime was driving in silence, but with a clear destination in mind, she didn’t dare ask where they were going. Ten minutes later he was pulling over to an underground garage and greeting a security guard.

_The Lannister building_ , she thought as he parked and killed the engine.

He went around and helped her with the door, silently offering his hand, and she took it. Hand in hand they walked to the elevator, and he pressed the button to the 12th floor. Still holding on to her, Jaime walked through empty desks and led the way to the other end of the room, where a single reunion area had all the lights on, and laughter and chatter were faintly heard.

“Gentlemen,” Jaime said firmly, and the group of five young men paled, “Whatever you’re doing stops now, this is priority number one now,” he said as he placed her laptop on the table. 

Quickly, Jaime explained what had happened and told them to get working; they were to get the information first and then see if the computer could be saved. The kids, because they were younger than Brienne herself, said it would be a piece of cake and Jaime Lannister, always so tactful, said that he expected the job done in the following twenty minutes then.

They sat down on someone’s desk, Brienne on the chair and Jaime carelessly on the desk. From time to time Brienne’s eyes went from the lads working on her computer to the man who had left his bed at the sound of her distraught voice. Jaime turned to look at her and smiled faintly, silently reassuring her that everything would be okay; he brushed a strand of hair behind her hair and asked if she wanted crap coffee from the vending machine, and she couldn’t help but smile at him.

Twenty minutes later, Jaime walked back in the room and asked for a report, a boy with a skin condition said they had backed up the information of her hard drive onto a USB drive, which he quickly handed over to Jaime. She thought he’d smile and thank them, but he didn’t. Instead, Jaime started grilling them with questions: did the copy include the security files? Would they be able to recover everything that was written after she hit save for the last time? What could be done about the computer itself? The boys replied as calmly as they could, yes, everything was in there, there were no other copies of the files, of course, they would not even peek on what they had recovered, yes, they knew they had signed a confidentiality agreement and understood that it included what they had just recovered

“We can’t find anything wrong with the computer; maybe it was a factory issue,” a boy said with fear in his voice. 

“Okay then, put it back together, we’ll either sue the company and get a new one or just get a new one, I’m still deciding. Good work lads, send me an email with your names, a Lannister always pays his debts.”

He handed her the USB drive, and she quickly put it in her pocket, then he took the computer and her hand and led the way back to the elevator. She didn’t know if she was excited, scared or turned on, probably a mixture of all three, but when the elevator doors closed Brienne planted a hard kiss on his lips before letting a sight out and resting her head on his shoulder. The drive back to her apartment took a little more time but her heart was beating normally now, and now and then she felt the USB drive in her pocket. He parked the car and walked her back to her door; he didn’t come in though, which was probably a good idea at 4:15 in the morning. 

“What time do you want to go to the store?” he asked as he leaned on the doorframe.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” she started saying, but he rose his eyebrows, and she knew it wouldn’t be worth the fight, “9:30?”

Five hours later, dressed in a black suit and a blue shirt, Jaime Lannister knocked on her door. He took her to the Tech Buy store and gave a poor clerk hell for the malfunctioning computer; he scored them a discount that neither of them needed and insisted she got the latest version of her old computer, the one that would match his. She agreed but drew the line when he said he would like to pay for it; she didn’t need her boyfriend buying her such expensive things. Brienne thought that he’d then drop her off at her apartment but was mistaken; he asked if she wanted to grab breakfast, which she declined, and then said that at least they should get coffee. Walking into Roaring Coffee, Mya raised an eyebrow when she saw them leaving the same car but didn’t say a thing, Brienne was grateful it wasn’t Randa behind the bar; she insisted on paying for coffee, and he let her. When she wished him a good day, he smiled and said they weren’t done yet. The third stop was the Lannister building again, only that it was almost 11 in the morning and the place was buzzing; he tried to hold her hand in the elevator but she dodged it, he didn’t try again. They went back to the 12th floor, where a different tech crew now occupied the same room and Jaime placed the brand new computer and the USB drive before them and told them to get things set up, that he wanted that machine running as if it were the previous one.

“Brienne, could I have your phone?”, he asked, and she simply handed it over, still trying to understand what was going on, “Synch everything guys,” he added and placed the phone next to the computer and USB drive, “We’ll be back in an hour.”

He started walking, and she followed, this time when they got in the elevator he hit the 32nd floor and swayed his badge when it asked for clearance, Brienne stood silently next to him. If she thought the 12th floor offices were nice, she was shocked when she saw where Jaime worked. Everything was glass and metal, a woman who she assumed was Jaime’s secretary greeted him and ignored her, telling him about the messages and meetings he had. He nodded and walked into his glass office, sat behind his desk and turned on a huge monitor on the corner. 

“I have to run out for forty-five minutes, make yourself at home,” he said picking up a tablet and rushing out before she could even speak.

Feeling curious, Brienne walked around the office; there was a big bookshelf behind his desk, and it mostly had financial and management books, but there were also a few novels. She looked at the three picture frames that sat on the division with the novels. One had a picture of a beautiful woman with green eyes just like his, his mother probably. The second one portrayed two young boys standing on a boulder with a beautiful lake and forest in the background, a younger Jaime and Tyrion. The final picture warmed up her heart, it was from the night of her book launch, but it wasn’t the same picture she had, it was probably one that had been discarded because they weren’t looking at the camera, well, she was, but he was looking at her and smiling.

Exactly forty-five minutes later, Jaime walked back in and she blushed; his eyes went from her to the framed picture, and she could have sworn he blushed too. He checked his watch and told her they should check on her stuff; when they walked back in the 12th floor, the tech guys were finishing up their work. They explained how they had set up automatic backups for every 15 minutes when the computer was online, updated all programs and licenses and that her phone now synched with the computer and the cloud. She smiled and thanked them; they mumbled their you’re welcomes but didn’t look at her, they looked past her, to the man who stood behind her with his arms crossed.

Jaime insisted on taking her out to lunch, but she insisted that she needed to go home and write, check that everything was still there and stuff. He agreed and frowned when she said she would take the subway, he walked her to the nearest station, only a block away from the building and saw her descend the stairs.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” she said shyly, mostly to herself and prayed that he didn’t hear her while she walked away.

Once at home, Brienne sat down and powered on the new computer, everything was there, her files to the last sentence she remembered typing, her pictures, even her email, and favorites in her browser. Her passwords were gone, but if they had been there she would have freaked out a little, she even found a little note that said how to change the cloud back up settings if she wanted. Cautiously closing the computer, she let a sigh out and thought of the day she had, surprisingly, what bothered her the most wasn’t the fact that she almost lost the last six months worth of work but the fact that Jaime Lannister had been the one to save her so effortlessly. All her life she had worked so that she didn’t depend on anyone, all her life she had done fine on her own, solving her problems and figuring things out the best she could. And then came in Jaime Lannister with his 24-hour tech support and his calm demeanor and saved her as if she were a damsel in distress. What bothered her the most, she realized, was that when she said that she didn’t know what she would have done without him, it was more than partially true.

* * *

Brienne had learned that good things in her life didn’t last for too long. Her mother hadn’t been alive for too long, her father got sick when her career was starting, when her books were selling like hot bread, Catelyn Stark had died; and now, as her relationship was going well, she was beginning to panic. Jaime Lannister was a man who was desperate to be loved, that much Brienne knew, but she was a woman who feared commitment, Tormund had said as much once, and now she realized it was true. 

Things started getting weird, admittedly on her end, the day of the computer ordeal. Jaime had called her later that night, and she had let it go to voicemail, she took an hour saying she was busy working and missed his call. She avoided him for a few days then, using the old excuse of being in the zone and not wanting to stop the process, he sounded a bit annoyed but understood. Two weeks later Brienne told herself to get over that nonsense and try not to alienate the gorgeous man who for some reason was interested in her. They saw each other for coffee, caught a movie on a Sunday afternoon and had lunch on Saturday, things were going back to normal until she received a phone call from her father, a call that she took outside to keep Jaime from listening, something that again seemed to bother him but he said nothing.

On their fourth month anniversary, Jaime took her out to the restaurant on top of the Red Keep, everybody seemed to know him there, they had a great table and great service, and although she had to dress up and she felt utterly uncomfortable, they had a nice time. The view from the restaurant was unbelievable, the bay shone with the lights from the pier and the boats in the water, it reminded her so much of home that she couldn’t help but share a bit more about Tarth. After dinner, he offered his jacket and took her around the walls for a stroll, the sound of the waves crashing was both relaxing and romantic; she could feel her cheeks hurting from the cold and from smiling so much. With her guard down, the comment slipped out of her; she said it had been some time since she visited her father and that maybe she should plan a trip to Tarth for the holidays. Jaime had slipped his hand in hers and mentioned that he had never been to Tarth, that maybe he could tag along. It had been a jape probably, a stupid comment made in the spur of the moment but she froze, she visibly froze in her place, and he laughed it off but pulled his hand away from hers. He didn’t take her hand again that night, and she knew she had hurt him.

Jaime started growing a little distant after that. He would still smile at her, but his smiles were smaller, he flirted with her but it wasn’t shameless as it used to be, he didn’t take her hand in public spaces, and when he kissed her, she felt that he was treating her like glass. No one in her damned life had treated her like she could break, but instead of making her feel delicate, it made her feel more of a lumbering giant than she had ever felt before.

The final stroke came out of nowhere; she was walking down the Street of Steel when she saw a mess of red hair, and broad shoulders, Tormund Giantsbane, few men looked like him. And instead of running the other way, of playing dumb and pretending not to see him, she walked straight to him and touched his arm.

“Hey”, she said with a soft smile.

“B! You never called me”, he said plain and straight and she blushed and rolled her eyes, “You know what that means, right? It means you have to have a drink with me on Friday, no excuses.”

She should have said no, she should have told him to join him for a cup of coffee instead, but sometimes Brienne was her own worst enemy and she said yes, she even went as far as telling him what time and where they should meet. With a fake smile and an uneasy feeling in her gut, she went back home. That night, as she made dinner for one and ignored Jaime’s text, she told herself that it was nothing, that she didn’t need to feel guilty, Tormund was an old friend, and they hadn’t seen each other in years, there was nothing wrong with having a drink with a friend. The following day Jaime entered the café with a stern look on his face, and although she had told herself she had nothing to hide, she immediately assumed that he was mad at her.

“Wench,” Jaime said when he finally joined her, “What are you doing on Friday?" 

“This Friday?” she stuttered, her palms getting sweaty and that damned blush creeping from her chest and turning into unflattering red blotches in her neck and cheeks, “I have a meeting that might run late into the afternoon.”

“Oh,” Jaime said rather defeated, “Any chance you can move it? I completely forgot to tell you there’s a charity function at the office… It’s kind of a big thing, and I have to go, I was wondering if maybe you'd come with me? Be the only person in the room other than my brother that I wouldn’t want to avoid like the plague?” 

She smiled softly at him, shame and sadness taking over her eyes. He must have noticed because he softly placed his hand on hers and told her not to worry, that work was work, and he should have called earlier.

_You did call earlier, I just didn’t pick up_ , she thought being eaten by her guilt.

As if she wasn’t feeling guilty enough already, on Friday she went into the Stark Publishing offices and sat through a meeting where a marketing man started talking sales numbers and social media presence. Out of the five writers in the room, Brienne’s books were the ones selling better, two months later, there were still some sturdy hits on her web page, and people were still talking about her books and posting in forums. When the meeting was over, Sansa asked her to stay behind and then the marketing man went on to speak further about her numbers. There had been a peak on the searches for her name around the time she had been live on Ramsay Snow’s TV show, most precisely, when the bastard showed her picture with Jaime Lannister.

Sansa then thanked the man, and he was dismissed, once they were alone she looked at Brienne with a concerned expression and said that lately, people were writing about her and Jaime Lannister. Someone had posted a picture of them holding hands, and someone else wrote that they had been seen having dinner around town. Sansa explained that while the main media hadn’t picked that story yet, they sure would if people kept talking, she asked if they had considered going public with their relationship and Brienne had said angrily that she wasn’t some kind of celebrity as to ‘go public’ with anything. Sansa Stark, usually calm and polite, had shown her inner wolf saying that she was a public figure, and so was Jaime and that sometimes one just had to shut up and do what was expected of them. The room had grown silent then; both women had apologized promptly.

“I’m only saying Brienne, that someone might make the connection between you two and how your searches are being linked to his. Tabloids may start running stories, and those are always a twisted version of the truth, I should know. You might want to talk to Jaime about this.” Sansa had said sounding worried.

Brienne had just taken a deep breath and nodded. Maybe she did need to talk to Jaime, she needed to talk to him about more than just some stupid web searches though, but for the first time in her life, she was avoiding confrontation instead of taking the bull by the horns. She left the Stark offices and walked all the way home, she considered calling Tormund and canceling but decided against it, if she canceled then it would mean that she shouldn’t have agreed in the first place and she wasn’t doing anything wrong. So she got home, showered and got dressed in a comfortable outfit before heading to Flea Bottom.

Tormund was already waiting for her when she stepped into The Hound’s Bar, he was talking with Clegane, and both men seemed to be having a nice time until she interrupted. She asked Tormund to join her in a booth, and the man followed, a waitress brought out menus, and she ordered a beer. They talked for a few hours, Tormund telling her what he had been up to since they last met and asked how Brienne was, she smiled and laughed and remembered how easy talking to him was. Sitting next to Tormund, who was big and looked rough, she didn’t feel like she was standing out, worst case scenario, they were standing out together, but it wasn’t like when she went out with Jaime. She shook her head and tried not to think about it. When Tormund asked about the blond boy from the café, she gave him a half-truth, she said that he was a nice guy and she liked to spend time with him. She didn’t tell him they were dating, didn’t say they had been dating for almost five months and that he was great and made her happy, she didn’t say that she was scared of how much she liked spending time with him, how she feared that he might one day leave. She didn’t tell him, but she realized that she was in love, and that love was the scariest thing she had ever felt in her life.

Around midnight, feeling buzzed and tired, Brienne said it was time she called it a night, and he offered to walk her out and make sure she got in a cab. They were leaving the bar when Brienne stopped dead in her tracks; sitting on a stool, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, Sansa Stark was staring back at her with wide eyes and a confused face. The ladies greeted each other and Tormund took that moment to say he would use the little boy’s room before they left, Sandor Clegane quickly made himself scarce when Sansa’s smile transformed into a thin line.

“Does Jaime know?” she asked without beating around the bush.

“It’s just a drink with a friend.”

“Drinks with your ex is something you tell your boyfriend,” Sansa replied sternly. “So he doesn’t. He’ll find out, Brienne, not from me, but somehow he will find out, and it won’t end well.”

Tormund came out of the bathroom before she could reply, acting like a coward, Brienne took that as her chance to scape and walked out of the bar.

_He wouldn’t care_ , Brienne told herself, _it’s just a drink_. But she thought of how he had gotten all worked up about a chair and knew there was no more denying that she had screwed up.

She woke up on Saturday morning feeling as if she had drunk half the bar; the guilt hadn’t let her sleep well. Trying to hush the voices in her head and the ache in her heart, Brienne turned on the TV to have background noise as she made breakfast, the voice of Ramsay Snow filling the room as she raided the fridge.

“… over 150 gorgeous people gathered last night for the annual Lannister ball, but that’s not what my dear viewers want to know, what we want to know is what happened after Jaime Lannister left the building."

At the sound of Jaime’s name, Brienne forgot all about the fridge and breakfast and turned to look at the TV. A series of pictures of Jaime and a gorgeous blonde woman were being shown. He in a tuxedo and her in a dress in clear High Garden style; the two of them leaving the building, he with his hand on the small of her back, a picture of him getting the passenger’s door for her, the two of them in his car, the car driving away.

“I’m guessing that was the hell of an after party”, Ramsay Snow said, and she turned off the TV.

She had no right to feel jealous; she knew she had no right; she had been having drinks with her ex-boyfriend while she should have been at a charity function with her current boyfriend. But she still couldn’t help but feel hurt, despaired; why from all the women in the world did he have to be seen with Margaery Tyrell, the girl who had made her school years horrible torture. 

‘I might be a lot of things, but I don’t cheat’, his words echoed in her head. But her hands were acting on their own, and she was typing his name and Margaery’s in a search engine and going over picture after picture of the two of them smiling, looking gorgeous and leaving together. She should have closed the browser and walk away, should have taken a shower, a cold one, and go out for a walk but she didn’t. Instead, she went to get her phone and wrote a text message.

‘Did you have a good night?’ she wrote and attached the picture that had bothered her the most, Margaery Tyrell with her hand around Jaime’s waist and a hand clawing at his chest, the two of them laughing at a private joke.

_At you, probably_ , her mind said, _you’re their private joke._

Before she could properly think about it, Brienne hit sent and threw her phone on the couch and left it there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have had a little too much fun writing this chapter...


	11. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that all I am? Good publicity for your book?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, wow, I mean, wow! I am humbled by the reactions evoked by the last chapter, I'm humbled by the feelings it managed to stir. You guys have no idea how proud it makes me feel, how good it felt, to see so many reactions, I never imagined that would be possible for me to write something that would make people hate on Brienne so much, lol. 
> 
> Here's the aftermath of Brienne's little stunt! I hope it doesn't come short.

The chime from his phone woke him up, the chime that told him it was Brienne who had texted, curiously, it was followed by another chime, the chime that told him Cersei had texted him. Letting a sight out, Jaime turned in bed and stretched like a cat; he was tired, functions in which he had to smile and act even more like a puppet than he already felt like usually left him exhausted. He had hoped that Brienne would be able to go with him, she would have made things much more bearable. Brienne would have worn a dress, blue maybe, in his mind the dresses were always blue, and maybe even heels. He would have danced with her and wrap her hand around his arm, he would have dragged her along and introduce her to the old bats that always asked who he was dating now and if he was interested in a granddaughter or themselves. 

Things had been tense with Brienne lately; some of them he knew were his fault, he had rocked the boat too much when he joked about visiting Tarth for the holidays. In truth, he was curious about the island, he had read it was beautiful, but he also wanted to meet Captain Selwyn Tarth, and it had bothered him that she had picked up her father’s call away from him. In his mind, some things didn’t add up. After that day she had kissed him in the Lannister building elevator, he had thought that he could touch her a little more, that she had grown more comfortable to the idea of physical touch, but she had started pulling away, and he had backed off. He knew she had been screening and avoiding his calls; he knew because he had noticed that she turned off her phone when she was in a writing spree, even her voice mail was programmed to say that she was busy writing and couldn’t take the call. When she had nervously said that she had a meeting the day of the ball, he had known something was up, but he let it slip.

Although he knew that Brienne was very cautious with her trust and friendship, he couldn’t help but feel that he was more invested in their relationship than her. He was always the one reaching out to her, except for that morning when her computer broke, he was always the one trying to hold her hand, and it pained him. He didn’t know if it was because she was very guarded or because she didn’t care for him as deeply as he cared for her. He thought he had started falling in love with her two months into their relationship but had remained quiet, partly because he hadn’t been sure of his feelings and partly because he didn’t want to scare her away. Last night though, he had realized that he didn’t need to doubt his feelings, that he really was in love with her, and that love was a marvelous thing.

Margaery Tyrell showed up to the function in a tight dress that exposed her back and showed off her cleavage. The heels, the dress, the jewelry, the hair and the shine in her eyes; two years ago he would have stalked her like a prey; they knew each other through her brother Willas, whom he met in college, from there it would have been easy. Two years ago, Jaime would have walked up to her and ask how she was doing; he would have said they hadn’t seen each other in forever and that she looked even more beautiful that he remembered. He would have gotten her a drink, made sure she danced with him and then leave her hanging, about an hour later he would make sure to find her again, flash a smile and ask if she was ready to take off. It worked, it always worked, but when he greeted the Tyrell girl all he could think was that her eyes weren’t that pretty and that she could use a little more carbs in her diet. 

By the time he was ready to go home, Margaery Tyrell was drunk. Eight months ago he would have left her to fend for herself in a room full of greedy men who needed a good fuck, but after being with Brienne and listening to the importance of having a friend’s back, he felt terrible for her and offered to drive her home. Jaime hadn’t counted on the photographers still being outside, and he cursed when the flashes went off as they waited for the valet to bring his car around. This time, he was smart enough to foresee any possible trouble, he called the lobby and had someone wait around the corner for Margaery, he drove slowly around the block and made sure to see her walk into the hotel before going home.

Another sound came from his phone, and he gave up on the idea of sleeping any longer. He picked it up and opened Tyrion’s text, the last one to come into his inbox. It was the information for a florist, assuming his little brother had sent the information to the wrong contact; he ignored it. Another text from Cersei came in, and he rolled his eyes and cleared the notification. Getting out of bed, he tapped on Brienne’s text and waited for whatever picture she had sent to load.

_Fuck_ , he thought as she saw the picture of Margaery clawing at him as they waited for his car. He scrolled down and read her text, now Tyrion’s message made sense.

He stopped dead in his tracks and called Brienne, the phone went off, but she didn’t pick up; after two missed calls, he decided he needed to see her. He was about to jump into the shower when yet another text from Cersei came in. Cursing at the gods, he tapped on her name and read the screen.

_‘Didn’t know you were dating a cow.’_

_‘Gods, I hope you weren’t. This would be falling too low, even for you’ and then a link._

_‘Looks like you got even, get tested after tapping the Tyrell bitch’ and another link, this time it previewed the same damned picture that Brienne had sent._

Confused, Jaime tapped on the link on Cersei’s second text, his heart racing for some reason. ‘Were they even on?’. The headline of some stupid gossip blog caught his eye but what made a chill run down his spine was that just beneath it was a low resolution picture of Brienne with the arm of that fucking ginger around her shoulders as they left a place that looked too familiar not to be Clegane’s bar. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Jaime started reading the note.

> **Were they even on?**
> 
> Brienne Tarth is known for the Oathkeeper series but, apparently, not all her stories stay on paper. For the past few months, our readers have been sending in pictures of the writer with none other than Jaime Lannister, finance mogul, and bad boy millionaire. Lannister had been off the dating scene and hadn’t been even photographed with a lady in almost a year, until he started parading around town with a certain blonde author.
> 
> The presumed couple caught everyone’s attention after Ramsay Snow showed a picture of the pair getting cozy in Tarth’s book launch party. However! Despite the millions of searches on the web and the few pictures of them around town, last night, Tarth was seen leaving a bar in Flea Bottom with a tall and beefy male that wasn’t Lannister. The man, some fans mentioned, had an air about him that resembled Wilde Innings, a character from Oathkeeper #4. That same night, Jaime Lannister was seen leaving the Lannister building with none other than socialite Margaery Tyrell, the pair looked quite cozy if you ask us!
> 
> What is most interesting, however, is not the status of the unlikely duo but the fact that our team was already researching another scoop! Ever since the pictures of Lannister and Tarth started circulating the web, there has been a slight increase in book sales, not only book #6, but all of them! Have we been played? Was this all a brilliant publicity stunt? Don’t play with our hearts, Ms. Tarth, we all love to see how the beast got the beauty.
> 
> _Click here to see the graph of Tarth’s sells before and after Jaime Lannister._
> 
> _Click here to see all the women Jaime Lannister has dated or presumably dated!_

His knuckles were turning white from holding the phone too strongly, taking a deep breath, Jaime slowly stood up and placed his phone on the nightstand. Once it was safely away from him, he changed into work out clothes and raided a drawer in search of his hand wraps; he needed to beat the hell out of something before driving his car across town and getting some explanations.

* * *

Jaime looked at his bloodied hand wraps and stopped punching the bag, the hand wraps had protected his fists as good as they could, but rage was still beating in his heart. When he felt the skin tearing apart, he hadn’t stopped. When he walked back into the apartment, two hours later and drenched in sweat, his phone showed no new messages. He took a cold shower, didn’t even think about shaving, threw on the first thing he found and grabbed his car keys.

He stared at Brienne’s door for at least five minutes before feeling calm enough to knock, and when he did, it was a soft rap, not the strong beating down of a desperate man. A part of him expected to see the fucking ginger sitting on her couch when she opened the door, maybe that was why he peaked past her shoulder when she opened up. What he didn’t expect was to see Brienne with an angry scowl on her face, he was about to open his mouth when she beat him to it. 

“Took you that long to tear yourself out of her bed?” she asked, venom dripping from her mouth.

Her words stung worst than the cold water on his raw skin, in the rage caused by that stupid blog post he had forgotten that Brienne had been mad at him for something he didn’t even understand. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was the man in the relationship and he was older too, that he should be more mature. He wanted to tell her that he had taken so long because he didn’t want to find a man sneaking out of her apartment but remained quiet. Feeling like an idiot standing in the hallway, he didn’t even wait to be invited in and walked past her and into the living room.

“Okay, we’ll talk about that first, should be fairly easy,” he said pacing around the room, closing and opening one hand while running the other through his stubble. “I don’t cheat; I already told you that.”

She closed the door but didn’t move closer to him, her face had softened some, but her guard was still up. He looked at her; they were adults, if she had something to say, she’d say it to his face, he would not ask for forgiveness for things he didn’t do. Her phone chimed in the kitchen, and she turned to look at it, a second later she was taking a step, about to leave him hanging in the background and that tipped him off the edge.

“Oh no, no no no!” Jaime said as he stepped between Brienne and the kitchen, “You accused me of cheating when I told you where I’d be last night, I asked you to come with me, and you said no, you said you had a meeting. And then I wake up to the news that my girlfriend was having drinks with her gods damned ex-boyfriend!”

Brienne froze like a deer caught in the headlines, her expression changing from disgust to surprise, the color leaving her face and it all clicked, she didn’t know. She didn’t know that he knew all about drinks with the beast of a man she used to date, didn’t know she had been caught in her thrice damned lie. Silently, Jaime took his phone out and opened the link Cersei sent before shoving the device into her hand and walking away, needing to put some space between the two of them, needing her to see that she was caught, needing to understand how the hell could se be so shameless as to accuse him of something he didn’t do when she was doing wrong too.

Five minutes later, Brienne was still standing silently by the kitchen. A bit calmer now, Jaime walked up to her and took the phone from between her hands. He considered taking her hand in his but decided against it.

“She said you were friends, she was drunk, and I offered her a ride to her hotel. Call my doorman and ask if I arrived alone last night, Bren was on, call him and ask what time I got home, ask if I had lipstick on my shirt or reeked of flowery perfume.”

“Margaery Tyrell and I are not friends,” she said, all the rage suddenly gone.

This time it was Jaime who rolled his eyes, out of all the things he had said, all she had to say was that she was not friends with the Tyrell girl?

“Is that all I am?” he asked raising the phone slightly, “Good publicity for your book?”

“Jaime…”, her whisper broke his heart. 

“For gods’ sake, I stood here hearing your accusations, and I’m just a publicity stunt!? Tell me Brienne, am I book 7?”

“Book 7? What are you talking about?”

“Yes, book 7! Just like that ginger is book 4.”

”Tormund?”

“Yes! Tormund, he finally has a name. So tell me, were you and Tormund having a good laugh while you got tipsy over at Clegane’s? Were you planning your next vacation? Maybe a nice visit to Tarth for the holidays!?” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but once Jaime heard the man’s name he couldn’t help it. She was supposed to be telling him that he wasn’t a publicity stunt, that she believed that he didn’t take Margery Tyrell home but instead she was deciding to fight the wrong fight. 

“Are you jealous?! You were seen leaving a fucking party with a gorgeous woman who made my life a living hell when I was in high school, and you’re jealous of me having drinks with a friend?!”

“Of course I’m fucking jealous!”, Jaime said going back to pacing around the small living room, they were two taller than average adults, why on earth did she have to have such a small living room?!, “I am also fucking hurt! I do not enjoy being used, Brienne. I don’t like being played.”

“I’m not using you!”, Brienne finally said as she snapped out of wherever her mind was, “You’re not a publicity stunt. This is real, everything is real, I hated you at the coffee shop, and then things changed, and my feelings changed too.”

“And what exactly is it that you feel?”, he asked needing to know where she stood in their relationship, needing to know if he really was the one who was investing more in them.

“I… I don’t know,” she said and sounded defeated, almost embarrassed.

“That’s not good enough, Brienne,” Jaime said, sounding as defeated as she did. Letting a sigh out, he walked to the door and out of her apartment.

* * *

“Here are the keys to my car and my credit card, I’m drinking whatever you’re serving,” Jaime said as he sat by the bar in front of Clegane.

“That fucked up?”, the gruff man asked as he took the keys and wallet and put them in his pocket for safekeeping.

“Like you don’t know.”

The Hound shrugged and poured him a first drink, a glass of his favorite scotch. “First one is on the house,” he added as some sort of apology, things were indeed very fucked up if the Sandor Clegane was apologizing for something.

Jaime let a sigh out not knowing what to think. Brienne hadn’t denied him being book 7; she had also said she did have feelings for him, well, at least she said he wasn’t a publicity stunt. He picked up his phone and tortured himself going online and typing his name and Brienne’s into the search engine; the blogs were having a feast. 

Were before there were only a few notes on them, now at least fifteen pages had headlines about his so-called fake relationship, the picture of the two of them at her book launch was the first that came out in the image search. He tapped on a few links and read the articles, all eloquent and colorful and full of crap, all saying the same things. He read a piece on Brienne’s love life; apparently there had been a man in Tarth, there was also the ginger, Tormund, and finally, there was him; at least all the trashy pages rated him as the hottest.

Jaime finished his scotch and asked Clegane for another drink, a beer materialized before him, taking a sip, he noticed it was light.

“I need something a bit stronger than this, Hound,” he complained and drank half a pint just to prove a point.

The Hound looked at him but didn’t reply, leaving Jaime alone by the bar as he walked to the kitchen. A few minutes later he came back with a second beer and a double cheeseburger with fries. Jaime looked at him and nodded, he hadn’t eaten since dinner, it was almost five now, and he was definitely hungry.

“You want some advice, Hound?” Jaime asked in between mouthfuls of burger, Sandor shook his head no, but Jaime didn’t care, “Stay as far away from Sansa Stark as possible, that girl is going to break your heart. They always do.”

As the hours slipped away and he drank beer after beer, Jaime started to feel better, a bit more at ease. With the start of a pleasant buzz in his head, he turned in his stool to look around the bar. It was the typical crowd for a Saturday night, young men trying to find a girl to take home, groups of girls ready to flirt their way into free drinks, a couple of men who looked like they had gotten off work recently. A girl with a short skirt and timid smile sat at the bar leaving an empty stool between them, she turned his way and nodded, he nodded back. 

Ignoring the girl, Jaime asked for yet another drink and couldn’t help but notice how each time Clegane took longer to serve him. He tried to get Sandor’s attention for five minutes, the bar wasn’t that busy yet, but still, he got no service, he let an angry sigh escape and shamelessly threw his arms over the bar and rested his head against the wood. The sound of someone sitting next to him and sliding a glass in his direction made him look up.

“I’m taking a wild guess and thinking you wanted one of these?” the girl said as she pointed at the beer, “I’m Alys.” 

“Thanks,” he said and drank some of the beer, it was regular, thank the gods, “Jaime.”

The girl eyed him head to toe, and in his buzzed state, he returned the favor. Curly dark hair, little makeup paired with red lipstick, a tight dress with a short skirt but comfy looking shoes. He guessed the girl was waiting for some friends, but with his luck, she could have been a pro at picking up men and drinking for free; either way, he didn’t care.

“You’re cute,” she said timidly, and he chuckled, throwing a half smile her way that he knew worked perfectly on the opposite sex, hells, it worked perfectly on men too. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m also drinking alone?” 

The touch of soft, delicate fingers against this forearm made him jump a little. He turned to look at Alys, she was pretty, he guessed, and she smelled nice. Her fingers started running slightly up and down his arm, timidly as you would pet a scared animal. Brienne had just accused him of cheating when she had been the one having drinks with another man, what was so wrong about flirting a little? He could use a few of his old lines, flash his smile and wave his company black card. He could make the girl feel interesting, enjoy the caresses of a woman who seemed to find him agreeable enough to get touchy fast and easy. But the smile died before it even reached his lips and he faked a cough and pulled his arm from under her to hide his mouth, he could be a lot of things, but he did not cheat.

“Clegane, I’ll take my tab. I’ll pay for this one too”, he said as he pointed to the half drank beer before him. He struggled a little with his phone, trying to find Tyrion’s number to it. 

“Your brother’s on his way here, I’ll give him your keys and wallet and add a nice 20% tip on your tab”, Clegane said, and his voice sounded almost relieved.

On Monday morning he volunteered to show the interns around the building, causing a few people to look his way in surprise and half the workers to turn away from him. 

_They know_ , he thought as he made their way to the orientation room, Tyrion said it was on TV, _they must be making bets on whether or not it was true that we dated, and if it was a stunt or not._

When he introduced himself to the interns, even they looked a bit uncomfortable. His mood worsened, but he stuck to it, he needed to busy himself, and he needed an excuse to order someone to grab him a coffee from the nearest crappy place available. On Tuesday he told himself that he didn’t need to hide from her, he hadn’t done anything bad; he didn’t need to give up on his routine, so at 3:30 pm Jaime left the office, ten minutes later he crossed the doors of Roaring Coffee. Randa greeted him with a flirty smile, and he flirted back with much enthusiasm. When his coffee was up, he took the mug and walked towards his table, he started pulling a chair but then decided to sit somewhere else, suddenly that spot wasn’t as appealing.

On Wednesday, he said hi to Pod, ordered his coffee and sat at his second favorite table, he was reading the newspaper when the bell chimed, and he heard her voice. He felt how something got tied up in his throat but forced himself to look up; her eyes were already on him. Never one to back down from a challenge, he didn’t look away, and things started getting awkward, luckily for him or her or them, Pod called her name and handed Brienne her coffee; Jaime saw how she took it, thanked Pod and walked away. He didn’t see her on Thursday and on Friday when he got in; she was sitting in another table, not the one they used to share, not the one she knew was his second favorite, not even on his third favorite. That time, it was him who ordered his coffee to go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime Lannister telling the Hound that Sansa would break his heart is my favorite line in the entire chapter.
> 
> Next update will be up on Wednesday.


	12. Pod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You get too invested in the customer’s lives,” Mya said for the thousandth time, he knew he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually think of this chapter as 11.5. 
> 
> Honestly, I think I wrote it because I needed a little break from all the emotions, I think you guys might need it too.

In the almost four years he had been working at Roaring Coffee, he had witnessed many things. In that quiet store in between the financial district and some more touristy restaurants and cafés, Roaring Coffee had managed to show him a sample of what the world looked like. He had seen tourists from across the Narrow Sea who screamed in an attempt of making him understand their orders better even though it still made no sense to him; he had seen suits complaining about short lines and rushing him only to realize they had forgotten their wallets. He had seen break ups and make ups and friendships blossom. He had seen young men and woman starting businesses from their computers, some of them took off, some of them crashed. In his quiet little place behind the bar, he had been offered praise and insults, he had been offered internships and jobs and even had a marriage proposal. But what he liked most about his job was that he was able to people watch as he pleased. 

The first time Jaime Lannister walked into the little café, he immediately knew who the man in the expensive suit was, his picture had been in the employee manual, and he had read that book from cover to cover. The man had been uptight and distant in the beginning, polite and rude at the same time if it made sense, treating him and the all employees, except Mya, as if they weren’t even there. But what could a boy from the Westernlands expect from a man who owned half King’s Landing? Still, Pod treated him kindly time after time, and when the man started coming frequently enough, Pod took a deep breath and greeted him with a polite 'Good afternoon, Mr. Lannister.' It wasn’t much later that Mr. Lannister learned his name and started being friendlier.

For two years he greeted Mr. Lannister in the afternoons, they chatted a bit about school or work or some project, as Pod prepared his drink, everything superficial, conversations that had no essence, but it was nice. Once, while he had been walking down Old Town Plaza, Mr. Lannister had seen him and even said hi, that scored him some points with the ladies. Something he quickly learned about Jaime Lannister was that the man always got what he wanted and that he liked some things to remain the same. He always asked for the same drink, always wore similar suits, always paid with the company credit card but left a golden dragon in the tip jar. So when one sunny day a woman with pale blonde hair came into the shop and sat at Mr. Lannister’s favorite table, Pod didn’t know what to do.

For the two following weeks, going to work was both nerve-wracking and unforgettable. Pod got nervous everytime that Mr. Lannister came in, and his table was busy. But he was getting to know the woman who took Mr. Lannister's place, and she was lovely, she was kind and said please and thank you. Her name was Brienne, she wasn’t from King’s Landing, and she always had her laptop with her. He had made up his mind to say something, to tell the nice lady that maybe she should just seat in another table but then Mr. Lannister had gone crazy and yelled at her and she had talked back, and that was impressive. What was even more impressive though, was that Pod found out her full name, Brienne Tarth, and she happened to be one of his favorite writers. 

When Pod helped Mr. Lannister switch the tables, he instantly had a good feeling, so when things started working out, he wasn’t surprised. Then the redhead man had appeared, and Mr. Lannister had flipped, but that didn’t bother Pod, because he knew things would work out, and they did. After that, he saw two people who had all but hated each other had slowly developed a respectful relationship and then a friendship. Then Mr. Lannister had gifted him the newest Oathkeeper book, and Ms. Tarth had signed it for him, and the TV had shown them in a picture looking like a couple, and if felt like everything was falling into place.

As the weeks went by, he paid attention to how his two favorite customers acted with each other; they were definitely a couple, a low key one but a couple after all. They never made it public, and the press had lost all interest in them, which was great, but he just knew that those two were dating. He could tell by the way Ms. Tarth would some days smile when she prepaid for Mr. Lannister’s drink. Or by how Mr. Lannister picked the blueberry muffin which he never ate before. Or by how their hands brushed a little too often as for it to be unintentional, the day he saw them actually holding hands, Pod thought things could only get better from there. He was wrong.

Something happened, and they started growing distant, but they were still a couple, that was easy to say, and all couples had fights. Then, just the weekend before, Ramsay Snow had picked up some news from an online tabloid and made a segment to describe how Ms. Tarth and Mr. Lannister’s relationship had been a farce, and everything changed. The week after the show aired was awkward for everyone involved, Mya told him as much when she took the afternoon shift, even Randa said that something was off, but Randa was glad because Mr. Lannister had gone back to flirting with her. 

The week that followed, though, that was when he started worrying, really worrying. On Monday neither Mr. Lannister nor Ms. Tarth showed up, Tuesday was the same, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday came and go, and they didn’t even appear for a to-go order. On Saturday he hoped that they’d show up, maybe have a coffee, talk things out; but they didn’t.

“You’ve been off the entire day,” Mya told him as they closed down the shop, Saturdays they only worked until 5, which gave him the much-needed time he needed to catch up with school.

“Sorry,” Pod mumbled, “Mya… Have Mr. Lannister or Ms. Tarth come in when you were working?”

The girl remained silent for a minute, her hands expertly counting the money in the register before writing some number down and letting a sigh out. Mya had trained him on his first day, and she was waiting for some replies from the places she had applied to before resigning. He would miss her, but he also knew that a time would come when he would quit too and follow Mya’s steps, with some luck, he’d be graduating the next year, working full time and balancing school was a hard thing to do.

“You get too invested in the customer’s lives,” Mya said for the thousandth time, he knew he did. “But no, they haven’t. It’s all that media coverage, you know? I could have sworn they were dating, they looked happy. If they were, then I don’t believe it was a stunt, unless she’s eviler than she leads on.”

“Don’t say that,” Pod said a little harsher than he needed, “I mean… I don’t know.”

“Well, without that daily golden dragon, tips suck this week,” Mya said going back to work.

When on Tuesday morning, Ms. Tarth walked in and asked for a ceramic mug and a flat white, Pod smiled and threw in a free cookie. The woman smiled softly at him and placed in the tip jar the amount that would more than cover the cookie; but she did not sit on their usual table, going instead for one close enough. When later in the afternoon the bell chimed, and he saw Mr. Lannister walk in, Pod couldn’t help but smile. Mr. Lannister greeted him but didn’t linger at the bar, he started walking towards where Ms. Tarth was sitting. 

_Talk it out_ , Pod thought, _just talk it out_.

“Hey,” he heard Mr. Lannister say.

“Hi”

“Do you have a minute?”

“I… Well… I can’t, not right now, no… I should go, I have a meeting with Sansa.”

“Brienne…”

He wanted to scream for Ms. Tarth to stop, he wanted to stand between her and the door, but instead, he just poured Mr. Lannister’s drink into a paper cup and leaned defeated against the counter. 

“Has she been coming in?”, Mr. Lannister asked even when he knew Pod shouldn’t be sharing customer information.

“No,” Pod said, even when he knew he shouldn’t be sharing that information.

“I guess things are more fucked up that we thought, eh kid?”

Mr. Lannister picked up his cup and placed another golden dragon on the tip jar, forgetting or not minding that he had just done so before talking to Ms. Tarth. Pod watched him walk away, in the two years he had seen Jaime Lannister come and go from Roaring Coffee, he had never seen him walk with his shoulders down as he had just done.


	13. This is It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, she thought, this is when he tells me if we’re over.

It felt odd, a little bit like going back to the scene of the crime, but she needed a drink and she didn’t want to drink alone, especially not on a Tuesday. 

She had been hiding, that was the awful truth; she had been hiding since the moment the door clicked behind him. For ten days she had avoided him, for ten days she had stared at her phone both hoping and fearing that he would call, knowing that it should be her calling him, that she should be the one asking, begging, for forgiveness. How many times had she dialed his number? Actually dialed it, not just pressed the favorite options on her contacts, she knew his number by heart now, the only other numbers she knew were her own and her landline in Tarth. The second the door clicked behind him, softly and almost in slow motion, her heart broke, the one thing she had been desperately trying to avoid, the pain, the angst, the sense of not being able to breath properly, the desperation; all those things she had been trying to avoid had come rushing in when she stupidly denied him an answer. Feelings, she was not good with them, not with identifying and least with expressing them. She had tried to avoid having him break her heart, instead, she ended up breaking her heart all by herself, and dragging Jaime along as collateral damage.

She went back and searched for that stupid blog post when he was gone. She used her new computer, which reminded her of him every time she touched it, and read all about her “fantastic date” with a “mystery man”. She had read all about Jaime leaving the party with Margaery Tyrell but now when she saw the pictures, all she could think about was Jaime’s voice saying that he didn’t cheat, that she could call the doorman and ask if she doubted him. She wouldn’t do that, not because she was afraid of finding the answer but because she knew he wasn’t lying. She had almost ran after him when he left but her pride was bigger than her sorrow, at least in that moment.

It had been a very long week, the longest ever if that was even possible. When she woke up on Sunday and her name was still trending, Brienne wanted to pack everything and go back home, she didn’t though, she settled for hiding at her apartment for the entire day. On Monday she tried to work from home, but ended up frustrating herself in front of the screen, she couldn’t concentrate, her heart was beating too loud, her brain was screaming at her, and the kids next door didn’t help. On Tuesday she tried a different coffee shop but found it too loud, too crowded. On Wednesday she asked Sansa if she could use an empty cubicle at Stark Publishing, the girl agreed and Brienne went there early in the morning. She set up her computer, made herself a cup of coffee and started typing nonsense, it only took one sad look from Sansa for Brienne to give up on getting anything done.

“Have you two talked?” Sansa had asked when she saw Brienne packing her things.

“No”

“Why?”

“I don’t know what to say to him.”

She saw him that afternoon, only for a few minutes but she saw him. He looked… he didn’t look well, and her heart filled with sorrow and shame. There was a man who loved her, she knew he loved her, and she had broken his heart and he had broken hers but she was too scared to take a step forwards. She looked at him and he stared right back into her eyes and she wanted to walk to him and fall into his arms but she didn’t. She picked up her coffee and ran away.

After that she had gone and hide some more, she stepped into the Sept of Baelor for the hundredth time and enjoyed the silence, that might have been the one thing she liked about septs, the people in there usually had their own problems to worry about. She didn’t turn on her computer for a week, she caught up in all her reading and called her father every other day, trying to fill the voids in her day, a sorry attempt to ignore the fact that Jaime Lannister didn’t just occupy her life for a few hours in a coffee shop or an hour or two at dinner or lunch. No, Jaime Lannister had become almost her whole world, he was a timely text in the afternoon, a quick phone call in the middle of the morning, he was Friday night plans and lazy Sunday mornings.

It was during a call on Monday afternoon that her father asked what was wrong and she couldn’t hold it together anymore. She told him everything, starting from the table and ending at the door closing. Her father listened closely, waited for her to get it all out before comforting her and once she was feeling better, she told her that he hadn’t raised a coward, and that she knew what she had to do.

With a new sense of direction, Brienne had entered Roaring Coffee for the first time in almost a week; the smell and the warm temperature made her feel right at home, Podrick’s smile was just the cherry on top and she went to sit on a table, any other but the one they shared. She had laptop with her and while she didn’t expect to get any work done, she still opened the word processor just in case something popped up. When she heard the bell chime in the afternoon, she tensed up. She had promised her father to try to make things right, and while a part of her had hoped that Jaime would show up and they’d have the chance to talk, another part of her was hoping that maybe he’d skip coffee that day. She wanted to talk, yes, she wanted to apologize, but she wanted to have something planned, she wanted to set up her ideas in order, decide the plot line and the outline but real life wasn’t like her books and she couldn’t design a scene. He asked if she had a minute and she panicked, she had all the time in the world, her meeting with Sansa didn’t start until 5 and it was just a 10 minute ride from Roaring. Brienne, who prided herself in the fact that she was honest and never lied, stuttered and said she had to go; she could feel his eyes burning on her back but she continued walking.

So yes, it was Tuesday night and she had been thinking about getting a drink since she walked back into her apartment, and then she found herself standing a the door of The Hound’s Bar and despite the fact that it felt a little wrong, she walked in. Behind the bar stood a skinny man with dark hair a pierced eyebrow, Brienne took a deep breath and asked if Sandor was around, the man asked her to wait. She took a seat and stared at the menu, she wasn’t hungry, she just wanted something to read; five minutes went by and no one came, eight minutes later the skinny guy reappeared, twelve minutes later the big shadow of Sandor Clegane covered her beer. 

The man looked at her, took out a glass and filled it with iced water before going around the bar and sitting on the empty stool on her right. Brienne let a soft chuckle out, Sansa was right again; Sandor Clegane could be a sweetheart. 

“Saw your boyfriend over a week ago”, Sandor Clegane said as he put a finger in the glass and played with the ice cubes, Brienne wondered if he had washed his hands first.

“Not sure if he’s still my boyfriend”, she replied as she drank her beer, she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders just by voicing her thoughts. 

“Did you break up with him?” the Hound asked, his voice ruff and uninterested.

“No”

“Did he break up with you?”

“No" 

“Then in my books he’s still your boyfriend.”

They sat in silence for a while and then, almost miraculously, Sandor started talking. It was trivial stuff, how the bar was usually empty on Mondays and Tuesdays and such, but she was thankful for him filling in the silence. As she played with the label of her third beer, he asked her if she wanted to join him in the alley for a smoke; she told him that she didn’t smoke and he said he didn’t either, not anymore, but that she looked so miserable that he knew someone needed to light a smoke. So they stood in a cold alley and she watched as Sandor took only a few puffs of the cigarette, letting the thing mostly burn away. 

“Sandor?”, she asked as she leaned against a brick wall and finished her beer. 

“Yes, _Brienne_ ”, the stress on her name made her chuckle again; maybe she was a little drunk.

“How come you’ve never asked Sansa out?”

She bit the inside of her cheek the second she finished talking, an old habit to try to hide her nervousness that she hadn’t done since graduating high school. Sandor looked at her and took one long puff from the cigarette; his face softening as he breathed it in, he let the smoke fill his lungs and then exhaled. He laughed bitterly as he tossed the cigarette on the floor and stomped on it. 

“I have been in love with that girl for the past ten years”, he confessed “But pretty little birds like her don’t go out with old scarred dogs like me, so what do you want me to do? I’m just saving myself the heartbreak I guess.” 

“Is it worth it?” Brienne asked before she could help herself

“No”, Clegane said almost softly, “No, it isn’t.”

* * *

She wanted to be friends with Sandor Clegane, no, scratch that, she wanted to be best friends with Sandor Clegane and help him get Sansa Stark to fall in love with him. Brienne wanted to see them get married in a northern style ceremony and be the godmother to their children and spoil them rotten. Yes, she wanted to be besties with the man called Hound who was big and strong and gruff and, indeed, a sweetheart. She wanted to thank him for cutting her off and putting her on a cab but she didn’t have his number. She also wanted a big glass of orange juice, a coffee and a bagel. 

Picking up the same jacket she had used the night before, Brienne threw her phone, debit card and keys in the pockets and went out the door. The air was cold and the skies were clouded, she couldn’t remember if the forecast had said chance of light snow or rain and she hoped it wasn’t the later. She walked past the deli around the corner, past the two different breakfast spots she had tried before, she walked past Fishmonger’s Square and the tourist infested restaurants and without really noticing, just letting the music play in her ears, she ended up standing in front of Roaring Coffee. Wednesday morning, unless something had changed, it was Mya behind the counter that day; Brienne checked the time, it was past eleven, he wouldn’t be there. She didn’t know if she was relieved or saddened by that. 

The bell rang as she stepped in, the place was having a late rush, Mya and Randa were taking orders and delivering coffees with an amazing speed. Customers made their order, the line moved forward, they picked up their coffee and left, no one stayed for a quick break, no one cared for the comfortable and available tables inside the warm establishment. 

 _More room for me,_ Brienne thought as she tried not to tap her foot as a lady took her sweet time reading the boards while holding up the line _, get them out, get them all out_. 

The lady asked for a drip coffee and Brienne wanted to yell at her, five minutes reading the boards and asking for drip coffee, gods. Once it was Brienne’s turn, she asked for an espresso shot, an orange juice and a plain toasted bagel; Mya said they would bring it out to her table and Brienne thanked the girl. She put the earphones back in her ears, turned around and then stood frozen in place.

 _You’ve got to be kidding me_ , she thought as she took a few doubtful steps towards her table, their table. _It can’t be her_.

Lushy brown hair, slightly wavy and lose. A visibly expensive coat around the chair’s back, red heels despite the weather, it couldn’t be her, could it? She should be in High Garden by now, she should be gone from King’s Landing, away from her, away from Jaime. Brienne wished for the woman to turn around, to show her face, her cunning eyes; she must have said something or hit something or made a noise because the lady did turn to look at her, only she looked very uncomfortable.

 _It’s not her_ , she thought and relaxed.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked as she closed the newspaper before her.

“No”, Brienne said feeling like an idiot and looked down.

The woman went back to her paper and Brienne took a step in the opposite direction, there was an empty table nearby. Only that she didn’t want that table, she didn’t want the second best she could get, she wanted to have breakfast in her table, and she was not going to let some woman in a fancy suit take it from her. She was done with more elegant woman taking her things, she was done with letting the pretty girls take what they liked, she was done with letting prettier girls walk all over her, with the shadows of her past mudding her present and ruining her future, she was done with all of it.

“You know what?” Brienne asked loudly as she walked back to her table, “You can. This is my table, and I want to sit here. So please, take your empty cup and your day old newspaper and move somewhere else.” 

The woman looked at Brienne as if she was some kind of monster, opened her mouth and then closed it right back. Picking up her paper, she left the empty mug behind as she mumbled a string of curses and left the shop. A soft cough caught Brienne’s attention and she saw Randa with a small tray standing behind her, Brienne expected some comment on what had just happened but instead she only got a smile. It felt weird, getting a smile from Randa, usually the girl only smiled at Jaime.

“That woman has been here for two hours with the same cup of coffee and stinking this place up with her perfume. I shouldn’t thank you, so I won’t, but that was cool.” Randa said as she placed Brienne’s breakfast on the table and cleaned up the mess the other woman had left.

“Okay…” Brienne said uneasily 

“Oh, also, not my place but… again, I don’t care. If you let him go, you’re an idiot.” Randa said before walking away. 

* * *

Randa’s words rang in her head all day long. They were there when she ate her bagel, when she left the shop and walked back home. They were there when she took a shower and got dressed in fresh clothes. They were there when she went online and searched her own name, something she almost never did. They were there when she searched Margaery Tyrell’s name and saw the news of her failed engagement to some disgraced businessman. They were there when she hand lunch, when she went out for a run despite the cold, when she saw the clock had struck 5pm. Her words were there when she picked up her now falling to pieces subway map and checked which line she would need to take, when she hoped she’d remember how to get there, when she tied her shoes, picked up her jacked, subway card and phone. They were there as she sat in silence for the 35-minute ride among men in suits and tired women. 

 _If you let him go, you’re an idiot_ , her mind told her, only this time it was not Randa’s voice in her head, it was her own. _It’s time to face the ghosts, time to stop running._  

She could already see the outline of the building in the distance, steel and glass.

 _Everything about him is steel and glass._

The streets on his side of town were always perfectly lit and groomed, even the faint snow that had started falling on her way there seemed to know there was a designated spot for each flake. The cars drove by fast, the people walked even faster, it was a little over 7:15 pm, she knew he never left the office before 7 but she couldn’t wait any longer at home, she was afraid she’d lost her nerve. Jaime had tried to talk to her, he had asked if she had a minute; she had said she couldn’t and walked away. It wasn’t because she didn’t have the time, it was because she really couldn’t, she couldn’t see him and not think of Margaery Tyrell clawing at his chest, she couldn’t see him and not think of the way his lips felt on hers, she couldn’t see him and not have her heart break further. 

But those had been the thoughts of the girl who didn’t go to prom because she didn’t have a date and then had to come up with some lame excuse that, of course, only made things worse. Those thoughts belonged to a scared young woman who still thought all men wanted to be with her to win a bet. They belonged to a woman who had tried to convince herself that she didn’t stand a chance in love. She wasn’t that girl anymore, she wasn’t that young woman or that grown woman either. She was Brienne Tarth, and she was strong and independent and a best seller author and she was loved by her father and until ten days ago she had a gorgeous man who couldn’t be bothered to look at the camera because he was distracted looking at her. She hoped she still had that man, she really hoped she hadn’t lost that man.

When she reached the building Brienne stood still for a moment and took a deep breath in, after gathering her strength, she started walking. She had been to his apartment before, not many times and not often, the excuses she had made up not to spend time there were lame now that she thought about it and she knew what else she wanted to change if she was given the chance. She wanted more time watching movies and series in the couch, she wanted more take out and home cooked meals in pajamas, she might be up for a sleep over or two. 

 _Don’t get ahead of yourself_ , she thought _, now you know this isn’t one of your stories that work out just like you plan._

“Hi Bren”, she said timidly when she entered the lobby.

“Miss”, Bren said with a polite smile and she let a breath out, at least he had recognized her, “I’m not sure if Mr. Lannister is home yet. We just switched shifts a little while ago.” 

“It’s okay. Do you mind if I go up anyway? I didn’t exactly call before coming here.” 

Bren didn’t answer; instead he called for the elevator and held the door open for her. Brienne smiled at the young man and pressed the button for Jaime’s floor. She thought of how different his apartment was from hers, how everything there seemed pretty and expensive, how everything suit him. Doubts wanted to go back into her mind and heart, that tiny voice that liked to sabotage her life wanted to tell her that she didn’t fit in that world. She didn’t pay attention to it, she had been listening to it for over twenty years, and enough was enough. She stepped out of the elevator and went to his door, taking a minute to collect herself, she knocked twice, hard and sturdy, and waited. 

 _He might not even be home_ , she thought as she checked the time, _it’s only 7:38pm_.

A minute later she could hear steps coming from the other side of the door, and then the knob turned and there he was, polished shoes, blue trousers and a white and blue checkered shirt. He looked surprised, not mad and not happy, just surprised and she knew she’d need to be the one to talk first.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked and that seemed to snap him out of his shock.

“Would you mind waiting for a minute? I’m actually in the middle of a call…” 

“Oh, I’ll come back later then”, she said and balanced herself on her feet, not sure of where to go.

“Don’t go”, he said a hurriedly, “Just… come in, please, it will be five minutes, ten tops.”

She walked into his apartment like she had done a few times before, and stared at his beautiful and open concept kitchen that only had a bowl of bananas and apples on the counter. As she had many times before, she wondered if he ever cooked there, he probably didn’t. Jaime mumbled for her to make herself at home and turned left, to the room she knew he used as a home office, she turned right and went to the living room. Brienne considered turning on the TV but she could hear the soft mumble of Jaime’s voice apologizing for the distraction and decided against it. She went to his bookshelf, she had always been curious to see what he had but never allowed herself to roam around, always choosing to sit tight in the comfiest couch she had ever sat and not touch anything.

He hadn’t been lying; he did have a lot of boring statistics, management and finance books in his personal library. She smiled when she saw a little section with her books in it, all six of them in hardcover, some still with the bookmarks in; she was happy he didn’t dog-eared them. She continued walking along the wall, a family portrait caught her eye, it couldn’t be more than a few years old; in it an older man sat in a very elegant chair and was surrounded by his children, Jaime stood on his right, a beautiful woman on his left and before Jaime stood Tyrion. The men all had matching suits and red ties.

 _Lannister red_ , she said to herself as she inspected the rich color, the woman was dressed in gold.

 _She’s beautiful_ , Brienne thought. _Green eyes, perfect teeth, a nose that has never been broken. She’s Jaime as a female, poised and perfect but she’s dead in the eyes_.

A shiver ran down her spine and she stopped staring at Cersei Lannister. Next to that picture was the same portrait Jaime had in his office, the candid picture of a woman with green eyes and dirty blond hair, almost a brunette, her smile was soft, like Jaime’s and her eyes were bright and smart like Tyrion’s. She looked like Cersei, the gene pool in the Lannister family must have been worth gold. 

“That’s my mother”, Jaime’s voice came out of nowhere and when she turned, he was standing much closer to her than she had anticipated. “Joanna, she is beautiful, isn’t she?” He asked taking the frame from her hands; a loving gaze fell on the picture for a minute before he put it back in its place. 

 _You have her smile_ , she thought but remained quiet.

“Sorry about that, it’s earlier in Pentos. Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Water? Scotch? Do you mind if I have a drink?" 

“I’m alright, you go ahead”, she said and as he went to the liquor cabinet between the kitchen and the living room.

She followed him with her eyes, saw how broad his back looked without the tailored jacket, caught the fine curve of his bottom in those tight dress pants. She blushed at that, she was there to talk, not to check him out. 

 _More checking him out_ , she added to her mental list of things she would no longer take for granted if given a second chance.

Jaime turned around and walked back to the living room with a glass of scotch and a tired look in his eyes. She was grateful that at least he didn’t want to kick her out, he wouldn’t have asked her in or offered her a drink if he wasn’t interested in hearing what she had to say, right? Jaime took a seat and placed the glass on the coffee table, he turned to look at her but didn’t motion her to have a seat. She felt a little out of place still standing by the bookshelf, nervous and anxious. 

“How can I help you, Brienne?”

 _Brienne, not wench, who would have known I would ever hope he called me wench_ , she thought as she felt a pang of pain in her heart. She looked into his eyes and that was a mistake, the amount of emotion there was something she had not been expecting. She looked at the scotch then, crossed the room in two strands and gulped half the glass’ content. She turned to look at him then.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” Brienne said and sat on the coffee table before him, their knees almost touching. “I screwed up, Jaime, I did and I knew the second you walked away but I was scared, I should have gone after you, I know I should have but I couldn’t, and I don’t even know why I couldn’t.”

Brienne took a deep breath and fought not to avoid his eyes, she was telling the truth, she would not diminish the worth of her words by looking away. 

“The men in my life, with the exception of my father, they haven’t been exactly kind to me… It’s no excuse, I know, I just…”

“You can tell me,” he mumbled softly.

So she told him everything, everything but without going into much detail. She told him how her first relationship had been a cruel joke, a bet between college jocks. She told him about Tormund showing up in her life so many years later and how the man had taken the time to piece her back together, only she had felt that he had built her how he liked her better and not how she was. She told him that she had broken things off with Tormund because she didn’t feel like herself, and that while she would always care for the northern man, she was sure the fire that had once existed was long gone.

“And then you came along, and it was unlike anything I had ever lived, I had ever felt. Jaime you came into my life, no, you broke into my life and I wasn’t entirely ready for it. I thought I was, it felt so natural, but I guess I wasn’t.”

She stopped to take a breath, the oxygen in her lungs had long run out and she was starting to choke again. Jaime leaned in, placing his elbows over his knees; he didn’t say anything, didn’t reach out, he just kept looking at her, expectant of what was to come.

“My life was panning out exactly how I expected, but I was a mess, so I sabotaged the only thing that I couldn’t control, not minding how happy it was making me, selfishly thinking only about my heart. I mess things up, Jaime, that’s what I do, and I’m still a mess”, she said in a form of apology.

“I’ve always known you were a mess, I just wanted to be a part of it.”

His soft voice, word stripped of any kind of sarcasm or mockery threatened to break her resolve, a knot tied on her throat and she had to gulp to make sure tears didn’t fill her eyes though she wasn’t sure if it worked. She extender her hand, she reached out for him. It hit her then that it was probably the first time she had reached out for him in all the months they had known each other, in all the months they had been together.

“A part of me was so sure you would one day wake up and ask yourself why you spent so much time with me. That you’d one day come around and say it was all a joke, that you won a bet. But day after day you didn’t, you came to my apartment at three in the morning because you cared about me and I got scared. And then I fucked everything up by not telling you about Tormund and it was terrible timing that it was the same day I saw you with Margaery. I was jealous, I had no right to be and no reason to be but I still got jealous, and things just got too complicated, too real and I ran.”

She was playing with his fingers now, running her own between his and then holding his palm and touching his wrist. She felt stupid, she felt exposed and she didn’t want to look up because she had been so dumb and it might have cost her everything.

“I care about you”, she said, finally answering the question she had avoided back in her apartment, “I care deeply and it scares me how much I feel like I want you, like I need you, in my life.”

“Brienne”

Her name from his lips felt like a fresh breeze of air in a hot summer day, she looked up to find warm green eyes looking at her. Her heart started drumming into her chest.

 _This is it_ , she thought, _this is when he tells me if we’re over_. 

“I used to be exactly the kind of man you thought I was. The playboy with a trust fund who slept around and sneaked out of beds in the morning, I’ve had my share of so called beautiful women”, he said and leaned closer, taking her hand in his, “And it was all empty, all I found with them was hollowness, with none of them have I felt whatever it is I feel about you. I have fallen fast and hard for you and it scares me.” 

He paused then and lifted her chin with his hand, his touch firm and gentle at the same time.

“But I’m all in because it’s easy, it is so easy to be with you.” he said and smiled, “You have the most beautiful blue eyes and longest legs and when you laugh you snort, and you are bloody brilliant at what you do. And really, Brienne, how can a man not love a woman who snorts when she laughs?" 

She couldn’t help but chuckle then, _so much for a heartfelt moment_ , she thought but in reality she was glad that he had broken the tense atmosphere, that he was so willing to listen and share and open himself up again. She looked at him and wanted to kiss him but she didn’t now if it would be right. Instead, she cupped his cheek, brushed her fingertips against the faint stubble that was already growing on his face and let a sigh out. He had said love, he hadn’t said it directly but the word had been used. She loved him too, she was pretty sure she did.

“So… are we on again?”, she asked shyly not able to contain herself anymore. 

“Oh, honey, we were never off”, Jaime replied and smiled that stupid charming smile of his, the one he had given her the day she called him a coincided rich boy, the same she saw whenever he saw that old copy of WGQ laying at her apartment. That damned smile that showed the confidence of a man who was seldom wrong or lost. 

“I am going to kiss you now”, she said.

 _More times when I’m in control. I want more times in control_ , she thought.

“Please do”, Jaime said and leaned closer, but left a tiny gap between their lips. She smiled and closed the distance, she was starting with that more control thing she wanted right away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were so many feelings towards Brienne... I've actually revised this chapter about four times, so please, let me know what you thought about it.


	14. No Spoilers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, mister Podrick Payne”, Jaime said as he picked up his coffee and took the first sip. “I always meant to ask, what do you study?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is... honestly, to me this is just a fun fluffy chapter to end things on a lighter note. 
> 
> I can't thank enough everyone who has read and commented and left kudos, reading the comments and seeing your reactions was the greatest compliment I could get, so thank you all, and thank you for sticking with me for fourteen chapters.

Standing in the middle of the street in the freezing winter air, Jaime Lannister felt, for the first time in the thirty-three years of his life, that he was on the verge of something great. Physically shaking his head, he started moving again, the bell rang when he opened the door and was kindly greeted by the same young man who greeted him almost every Monday afternoon for the past five years or so.

“Mr. Lannister, your usual?”, Pod asked with a big smile.

“Make it to go, please, Pod,” Jaime said distractedly, his eyes turning to the front of the shop.

Jaime considered letting it go, he considered being an adult and not ignoring the wrong image before his eyes but he couldn’t. He knew that if he said nothing, the image would bother him all day at work and he had come here to relax, not to get even more burdens. So he walked towards the table, a speech already forming on his mind, a few witty comebacks at the tip of his tongue in case of an unfriendly engagement.

“Can I help you?”, the blonde woman asked distractedly; her eyes focused on the screen before her.

“That’s my chair, you know?” he said as he gestured to where the woman was sitting, “It’s been my chair for the last twelve months or so.”

“Well, I happen to like this chair. If you like it so much, you can come here earlier and take it”, Brienne said with a bright smile on her lips as she finally looked away from the screen, “What are you doing here?”

“Came by to say hi,” he said and leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the lips.

When they broke apart, Brienne was blushing; it still fascinated him how despite being together for little under a year she would blush when he kissed her in public.

_Roaring Coffee shouldn’t even be considered as a public space_ , he thought as he heard Pod calling his name from over the counter, they spent so much time there that it was almost a third living room for them. _Almost_ , he thought as he counted the things they couldn’t exactly do in said third living room.

“Got to run now. But I’m serious, that’s my chair, you picked that one over there, so stick to your decisions, Tarth.”

“Later, Lannister.”

Jaime smiled as he walked away; he was happy, really happy with both his personal and professional life. He had a great girlfriend who didn’t take any crap from him but cared deeply for everything that happened in his life, she was smart and beautiful, and she could hold an intelligent conversation with Tywin Lannister, which had made the silences in Sunday night dinners more scarce. The company was doing great, he didn’t want to jinx it, but he felt that he was on the verge of something big, not just a merger or new business transaction. He really thought that the research he had been doing for the past ten months would pay off and Lannister Enterprises would be leading the way into a new direction. That would be his contribution to the family, that’s what his name would be remembered for. 

“So, mister Podrick Payne”, Jaime said as he picked up his coffee and took the first sip.

_Perfect, as always_ , he thought.

“I hear it’s your last day with us,” Jaime added with a hint of sadness in his voice. “I always meant to ask, what do you study?”

“Oh, Psychology, Mr. Lannister, the fascinating study of the mind and behavior,” the young boy replied with a smile and Jaime Lannister couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly, it made sense a boy as sensitive as Pod would study psychology.

“Well, Pod, I like to believe we are friends, so let me know if there’s anything you might need in the pursuit of your new endeavors. I can make a few calls and clear an internship for you if you want.”

“Oh, that’s very generous Mr. Lannister. Ms. Tarth actually said something very similar. Thank you very much, really.”

Jaime smiled and turned to look at Brienne, she was back at her writing, lost to the world. He turned and looked back at Pod; he was a good kid, he’d do okay.

“That woman is insufferable, I tell you. Anyway Pod, here’s my information, and my personal number so don’t lose the card, okay? Have a good life, kid, and stay out of trouble.”

* * *

Brienne didn’t know how Samwell Tarly, chubby and soft Samwell Tarly who broke out a sweat from getting too excited and eating spicy food had gotten a deal to conduct a TV show, but who was she to judge? She was just happy that her one interview on the movie del subject would be with him. Six months ago, Ramsay Snow had been arrested for possession of drugs. Apparently, the snow he liked wasn’t exactly the one in his last name but the one he could snort up his nose. There had been no trial, but the media had a feast in the days of the event and those that followed; then, Samwell Tarley had been announced as the replacement host, and things had calmed down.

The entire way the show ran had changed, Varys still scooped juicy breaking news but Sam approached them differently, he gave the guests the chance to prepare for the show a few minutes before going live at least. So when Sansa asked her to do at least one interview regarding the recent decision to start taking meetings with producers to make a movie version of her first Oathkeeper book, Brienne had put the condition that it had to be on Sam’s show.

“Jaime Lannister is in the building,” Sansa said as she walked beside Brienne, a cup of coffee in her hand and a binder under her arm. She looked happy; a cheeky smile had formed on her face as it did every time she mentioned Jaime Lannister in Brienne’s presence.

“What is he doing here?” Brienne asked as she sat to have her make up retouched.

Brienne knew she had mentioned she would doing 'Live! With Sam Tarly' on Saturday morning, she remembered because they usually got breakfast together on Saturdays. He had said okay and told her that he too had an appointment, so what was he doing in the studio? As if the gods wanted to mock her, the smooth voice of her Jaime Lannister filled the room, Brienne’s eyes darted to the TV beside the makeup artist mirror, and there he was. 

“That’s one good-looking man,” the makeup girl said, and Brienne smiled.

_Yes, that’s a good-looking man_ , she thought as she saw him on screen. He had what she called the 'Default Lannister' look, a slim fit black suit, the pristine white shirt that she still didn’t know how it never wrinkled and shiny black shoes. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and his collar was open, which in her opinion made him look hotter, and in his opinion made him look more carefree and approachable; as if Jaime Lannister needed to loom more of any of those two. _And he’s mine._

She tried to pay attention to what he was saying; she was sure it was very important for people to understand how the economics of King’s Landing were changing with the different political movements and the fact that winters were getting longer. She was sure that the woman who had sent in a question of how to best invest her retirement pension would be receiving a great answer, an answer that might help not only her but many viewers. She was sure that what he was saying about carefully reviewing the interest rates of the Iron Bank and many other financial establishments was very important. But she was distracted by his face and his dimples; she was distracted by how comfortable he was on TV and by how he was trying to make Sam feel included and not outshine the kind host.

Jaime talked for fifteen minutes, what would be considered an eternity for a program whose target audience were housewives, but the fact that he looked like he did probably help. The producer let Sam know that they were going on a commercial break and Sam politely wrapped up their conversation, an assistant told Sansa and Brienne that they were up and lead Brienne on set. Some of the people in the audience started clapping, she smiled politely and curtsy slightly, she could hear Jaime chuckle in the background. She turned around and rolled her eyes playfully, a secret smile on display just for him and Sam to see; but he didn’t move from where he sat, not even when she was before them.

“Hey sweetie,” he said with a smile.

Half the public gasped in surprise, the other half either awed or sighed loudly.

“Jaime! I just had the most brilliant idea!” Sam said with a huge grin on his chubby face, his cheeks blushing and someone rushed to powder his nose and forehead, “Would you like to introduce Ms. Tarth? You could use the cue cards; it doesn’t have to be anything personal, just for fun, people know you read her books.”

_Read the cards… shit_ , Brienne thought, and she was sure Jaime was thinking the same thing. Dyslexia and public reading didn’t mix very well, Jaime had mastered the art of presentations by preparing and going over them again and again until he didn’t need to read anything new even if a question arose.

“Sure,” Jaime said with a winning smile as he extended his hand to take the cue cards.

The producer had them take their seats, Brienne in the empty couch beside Jaime. As the cameraman counted back, Brienne tried to casually squeeze his left hand, which ended up in him turning to smile softly at her just as they went back on air and despite Jaime’s quick reflexes, the camera caught that. Three months ago she would have blushed; now, she honestly couldn't care less who saw him smiling at her. 

“Our next guest,” Jaime said expertly, “Is a best selling author with incredible blue eyes. Her book series featuring a stubborn army Captain and a charming former Special Ops Agent have won the heart of geeks, nerds and all forms of intelligent life.”

Brienne could see Sam regretting his decision, the poor lad turning red as a beet while Jaime completely forgot about the cue cards. Of course he didn’t know Jaime was dyslexic, Sam probably thought Jaime would stick to the cards and make a funny comment or two. Brienne smiled, so far, she had no problem with the introduction, if Jaime offended someone, it would be Varys who’d have to deal with it. 

“Rumors of a movie deal have been around for years. Here to tell us the truth of what’s going on, is one of my favorite authors and humans on the planet, the beautiful Brienne Tarth.”

That’s when she blushed, at the sound of him calling her ‘beautiful’ on national television; that’s also when she knew that they’d be on the headlines of every online gossip blog and maybe even a few printed magazines. Only that this time she did not care, she looked at him and Jaime was smiling at her, for her, just like he was in that picture she used as the background of the home screen on her phone. She rolled her eyes out of habit; she was always rolling her eyes at him.

“You’re incorrigible,” she said to Jaime and then exaggerated in her attempt to get on with the interview, the audience seemed to be loving the exchange, “Sam, it’s so good to see you.”

“Well, that’s my cue to leave then. I’ll see you later, Tarth”, he said, and with the smoothness and elegance that only he possessed, Jaime planted a soft kiss on her cheek before leaving the stage amid the applause and yelps of the audience. 

_Yes, blogs, magazines, that just sealed it._

Brienne followed him with her eyes, the fervent blush already creeping up her neck and in the distance, she could see Jaime smiling and greeting a smiling Sansa Stark.

“Ms. Tarth,” Sam said suddenly catching up to what was going on, “Let me know what an honor it is for you to choose our show to clarify the matter finally. As Mr. Lannister so eloquently said, we have heard this rumors about a movie deal for some time now, what can you tell us about it?”

“Well Sam, I can confirm that the rumors are true. After much consideration and lots of conversations, we have decided to start meeting with producers and filmmakers to explore the idea of bringing Cap and Special Agent Jacobs into the big screen.”

* * *

When Brienne told Jaime that she wished to spend more time together at home, either his or hers, he had smiled so brightly that she thought he had assumed they would be indulging in more carnal desires. She had blushed and stammered and apologized saying that she meant for them to spend time together in a more relaxed environment, he had laughed at her for a few minutes before telling her to get her mind out of the gutter. They had eased into it little by little, for months they had gone out and then she’d invite him over for coffee or tea. Then they had gone to Tarth together, not for the holidays because that freaked her out a little, but Jaime had met her father, and the two of them had been okay with one another, and that was all she needed.

After their Tarth vacation, when the weather was warm, they would take long walks out, try new places to eat and then go home to enjoy a glass of wine before parting ways. As time passed by and the weather grew colder, they changed the walks and sports for reading and watching movies. Apparently, they both had quite the list of films they had missed for various reasons. He had a better television, his furniture was bigger and more comfortable, his kitchen came with fancy equipment that he didn’t exactly know how to use, but somehow Jaime preferred to watch movies on her smaller television. He liked pretending to yawn in the middle of the movie and putting his arm around her shoulders, and she liked that he smiled every time she leaned into him despite already knowing that he was being purposely dumb with his old move.

That Saturday, however, after spending the morning at the studio with Sam and then grabbing lunch with Sansa and Sandor over at the bar, they had decided to stop by Brienne’s house, pick up whatever she might need for the weekend and camp out at his place. That Saturday was for Pentoshi take out and reading by the fireplace, snow already falling lightly out the window and gathering on the balcony. She loved his apartment, she really did, it was in his apartment that she got the idea that would bring everything together in her latest book; it was while staring out of the window panes of his bedroom’s balcony that she figured how to break through a wall in Oathkeeper #7.

“We are trending, wench.”

She could feel the vibrations in his throat as he spoke, they were laying in bed, Brienne resting her head against his chest as she proofread something Sansa had sent her. Jaime had been playing on his phone for the past hour, searching their names and if there were any gifs of him planting that soft kiss on her cheek while on television. He had found some news that were so outrageous he couldn’t help but laugh, he had read those out loud to her, slowly and making a few mistakes but she didn’t care.

“People want me to be cast as Special Operations Agent Jacobs, of course. What do you think? Should I add ‘aspiring actor’ to my resume? Get some headshots done?”

Brienne turned off the screen of her device and grabbed her phone, quickly opening the camera application, she snapped a picture of him.

_Damned that man and his photogenic face_ , she thought when she saw the result, that picture could use as a headshot if he wanted.

“Do you know how many pages you’d have to read and memorize?” she asked teasingly. 

“Wench, you hurt me!”, he said clutching at his heart in an exaggerated motion, “Confess Brienne, you think I’m too pretty to play the part.”

“I never said pretty,” she told him and went back to her book.

Later that night, as they had dinner in front of the TV, Jaime started talking about his advances in what he so creatively called the J. Lannister project. Despite the fact that she didn't understand half of the thing she was saying, she listened because she was trying to be a good girlfriend, after all, he listened to her babble for hours when she couldn’t decide over what word to use. She was half distracted until she heard the name ‘Sandor Clegane’ being used in the same sentence as ‘jewelry store’, she steered the conversation in that direction, paying full attention to what Jaime had to say. Not two months after the big fight, Sansa had walked into the Hound’s Bar and asked Sandor out, she had clarified that it was to be a date, that she could pick him up or he could stop by her place but she wanted to take only one car because wherever they were going, they were going together. Sansa had picked the place; an awful dive bar that Sandor loved and after that, everything just fell into place.

It was Jaime’s turn to do the dishes so Brienne grabbed the first jacket she found and went to the balcony, she had been yearning to make the call since Jaime mentioned Clegane, but she had stayed put, collected all the information she could. Now, with a more lucid panorama and the knowledge that she wouldn’t be ruining any surprise, she was more than ready to make the call. Sansa picked up on the third ring, there was noise in the background; she was probably at Flea Bottom.

“Word on the street is that things are getting quite serious between you and Sandor Clegane,” Brienne said with a smile, and she heard Sansa giggle at the other end.

“Word on the street is that you have bewitched Jaime Lannister and he is now hopelessly in love with you,” Sansa said referring to one of the articles Jaime had read to her.

“Well, you know how it is Sansa, the street always finds out before I do, so who knows, might be true,” Brienne said, and both women laughed.

In the distance, she could see Jaime already coming back from the kitchen, his eyes on her, his head nodding to the bedroom. She checked the time; it was past 10:30 pm and they had been talking about how tired they both were.

“Well, let me know if there will be wedding bells in the future,” Brienne teased.

“Yours or mine?” Sansa said and laughed elegantly.

Girls like Sansa Stark did not snort when they laughed; they didn’t date older, grumpy men. But just like there were no men like Jaime Lannister, Brienne was sure there were no many girls like Sansa.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Brienne said and then hang up.

She stayed out in the balcony a little longer, King’s Landing was full of light, so much light that most nights one couldn’t see the stars, but staring down at the city, all the lights made it look beautiful. Letting a sigh out, Brienne shivered and decided to go inside. She turned off the lights in the living room as she went by, made sure Jaime had turned off his office light and then walked into the master bedroom, which was slightly bigger than the living room of her apartment in Muddy Way.

“You know,” Jaime said as she pulled the covers and got in bed, “You never did tell me if I was book 7.”

Brienne looked at him and rose an eyebrow, a silent challenge for him to press for more information but only if he really wanted it. He didn’t; he never did; that was one of the things she liked most about him, Jaime was a real fan, he didn’t want spoilers 

“Well, there’s this scene…”

“No! Don’t! No!” Jaime said and launched at her.

One second she was talking and the next she had his soft lips on hers, one hand on the base of her head and the other cupping her cheek. She smiled against his kiss, her arms going around his neck; she deepened the kiss a little, let her tongue run along the line of his lower lip and even nibbled it a bit.

“No spoilers,” he said when they broke apart, a little short of breath and with smiles on their faces.

“No spoilers,” she promised.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But... is this really the end?


	15. Come Meet My Enemies - An Excerpt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I finished writing That's my spot, I knew I might want to continue working on the universe that was created but I felt as if prolonging the story would decrease whatever quality I had managed to achieve... And then, a few weeks later the title of this new series popped into my head.
> 
> Some of you had quite the rollercoaster of emotions regarding Brienne, and I wanted to explore deeper the events in her past that shaped her into who she is and explained why she reacted the way she did in That's My Spot. So here it is, a small excerpt of what I've been working on for the last week or so.

Brienne didn’t know if it was because of the pending conversation she had with Jaime or because she was tired and stressed, but suddenly her bed felt too small for the two of them. How could it not, when they were both tall and broad, when Jaime had taken to sleeping on his back, legs, and arms thrown out as if he was alone in his stupidly big and comfortable bed. He had once told her when they first started sharing a bed, that if at any point she didn’t feel like having him over, she could tell him, that he would not spend the night in the bed of a woman who didn’t want him there. But it had never occurred to her to do so, not until that very night at least.

“What’s wrong?”, Jaime’s voice broke the silence as she tried laying on her side of the hundredth time.

She froze in place for a second, guilty about waking him and relieved that he was bringing up the issue. Brienne sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed, the feel of the fuzzy carpet under her bare feet was somewhat comforting, she didn’t know why maybe because it made her feel grounded. She heard the sheets rumpling and felt the mattress dip further as Jaime sat against the headboard, there was a bit more movement, and then Jaime softly said he’d turn on the light. She partly wished he wouldn’t, Jaime Lannister with sleepy eyes and bed hair was one of her weaknesses and she needed all the strength she could gather for the upcoming conversation.

Brienne took a deep breath and turned to look at him, one year, one month and a few weeks, that was how long they had been dating and yet, she sometimes still looked at his face and wondered if he was really there. It amazed her how much she enjoyed his presence, and how much he seemed to enjoy hers; yet, right then, as he sat rubbing the sleep off his eyes, he didn’t look very pleased, he didn’t look very happy either; he looked worried, and it killed her.

“I had a meeting with Martell Productions today,” she started, and he nodded, “They… they are offering a great deal, Jaime, they want me on board, overseeing screenplay, talking to the director, everything…”

“B, that’s amazing,” he said with a big smile, a puzzled look on his face.

“The thing is… they won’t do it if I’m not a part of the team… and that includes moving back to Tarth for the duration of the shooting, six to seven months.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if this might be something you'd be interested in reading! I promise the first chapter is a bit more interesting, I just didn't want to give too much away!


End file.
